



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 

St 4 .. 



> 













. 


































































































. 
























































































Ruthie was undeniably different 


Page 3 



RUTHIE 

BY 

PHYLLIS DUGANNE 

» • 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
ADA C. WILLIAMSON 




NEW YORK 

HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY 
1921 

eki V 



COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY 
HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. 



SEP -6 ii)2! 



PRINTED IN THE U. S. A BY 
THE QUINN a EODEN COMPANY 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


§) CL A 6 2 2 6 5 6 



V 







HELEN COLLINS 









CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 





PAGE 

I Ruthie Comes to King Street School 


i 

II The Adventurers' Club 





17 

III Rosalind .... 





26 

IV The Merchant of Venice 





39 

V Portia and Nerissa . 





54 

VI Jack and The Beanstalk 





69 

VII The Dreadful Dump 





81 

VIII Holloway Park 





93 

IX Peg’s Adventure 





no 

X The Night in the Haunted House 



126 

XI Spring — and Elephants 





141 

XII The Third Adventure . 





157 

XIII The House Party . 





169 

XIV War 





182 

XV Peace 





195 

XVI Allies .... 





208 

XVII School Again . 





220 

XVIII The Class Picnic . 





234 

XIX Moya and Charlotte . 





250 

XX The School Year Ends . 





265 







LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Ruthie was undeniably different . . . Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

“ I was so astonished when I heard you were to play 

Portia ” 43 

“ What’s that? ” 132 


“ It’s Jack! ” Ruthie said . 


218 



s 








RUTHIE 


CHAPTER I 

RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET SCHOOL 
S Ruthie Blake paused at the stone steps of the 



-^"lL square, brick building on King street, she felt as 
though she stood on the threshold of Adventure. Other 
girls in Holloway, that same September morning, had 
hesitated in the doorway with less pleasure; for them 
it meant an end to the long summer vacation, a begin- 
ning of the lesson-packed school year. But Ruthie felt 
no regret that vacation was at an end. For she was 
thirteen years old — going on fourteen, in fact — and she 
had never been to school in her life. 

Her father was a construction engineer, and she and 
her mother had traveled with him all over the world; 
from sun-baked countries to lands where Ruthie had to 
go about muffled in furs and woolen dresses, while 
Harrington Blake built bridges and dams and railways. 
And now, at last, he had taken a position in the Hollo- 
way office, a position that permitted him to build his 
bridges and dams on great white sheets of paper, with 


2 RUTHIE 

all sorts of rulers and protractors and compasses, while 
other men traveled miles away to supervise the actual 
work. Harrington Blake, himself, was a little sorry to 
settle down to an unadventurous life in the house on 
Cedar street, but his daughter felt that adventure had 
really commenced for her. 

For the first time in her life she was going to have 
friends of her own age. 

In Singapore, there had been a girl whom Ruthie had 
liked immensely, but just as they had become really 
acquainted, her father had packed her off to South 
Africa. And in Pekin, the son of the American consul 
was exactly Ruthie’s age, and they had been great 
friends — until the trunks were brought forth again, and 
the Blake family took a boat for Australia. 

But now traveling was at an end; her heavy trunk, 
that had been packed with toys and dresses from all 
parts of the world, lay empty in the attic of the house 
on Cedar street; her mother’s and father’s trunks were 
beside it. Ruthie hoped that when next they were used, 
they would be thick with cobwebs, dusty with age. 
Tokio and Benares, Rio de Janeiro and Vladivostok, 
Ruthie had taken as a matter of course. But Hollo- 
way, an ordinary American town, seemed a place of 
magic. Almost every one of the square, comfortable 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET 


3 


houses held a girl or boy like herself ; in the weeks they 
had lived in their new home, although there had been 
no time to make friends, Ruthie had seen them — pink- 
cheeked girls on bicycles, boys playing on the tennis 
courts, boys and girls in the ice-cream store. And now 
at last . . . 

Ruthie pushed open the heavy door and entered the 
corridor, walked quietly toward Room 12 A. The day 
before, her mother had come with her to the school, 
and she had been admitted and assigned to a room 
in the second year of King Street School. As she hur- 
ried down the hall, she looked at the other girls envi- 
ously; she noted their middy-blouses and skirts, their 
braided hair and stiff black ribbons. She realized with 
despair that her only resemblance to them was in her 
tanned face and arms — the Athenian sun is little dif- 
ferent from the sun that shone on the Atlantic seashore 
that summer. 

And they, in turn, looked at her, turned back to 
stare. 

For Ruthie was undeniably different. Her little oval 
face was American enough, but her brown hair was 
caught by a round comb and cascaded about her shoul- 
ders in the manner of little French girls; her short 
stub-toed shoes could not have been bought in Hollo- 


RUTHIE 


4 

way — or in New York, for that matter. The loose 
blouse that hung down over her brown silk skirt was 
of dull green crepe, embroidered by the native women 
of northern Africa; while Holloway girls looked at it 
in admiration and envy, Ruthie was wondering whether 
she could buy a middy-blouse in time to wear it to 
school the following day. The silver Burmese pin at 
her throat, with its dangling chains of silver beads, 
seemed to her an uninteresting thing before the plain 
gold bar-pins that caught the neckties of other girls to 
their middies. 

The teacher’s chair in Room 12 A was empty, and 
there were only a few girls seated about, unpacking 
their leather bags, sharpening bright colored pencils, 
nibbling at their lunches. The clock by the door 
pointed to half past eight. Ruthie sighed happily and 
sank down in the chair to which Miss Orcutt had 
assigned her the day before. 

Across the aisle, a girl smiled at her. She was a 
pretty, dark-eyed girl in a yellow dress, and Ruthie 
watched excitedly while she got up and came over to 
the seat behind her own. 

“ You’re the girl who lives in the new house on the 
corner of Cedar and Marsh street, aren’t you? ” she 
asked. 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET §• 

“ Yes.” Ruthie smiled because she could not think 
of anything else to say. She wanted to make friends 
with the dark-eyed girl, but she did not know how. 

“ My name’s Peg Adams,” said the girl. 

“ I’m Ruthie Blake.” 

“ Yes, I know.” 

Silence again, while the two girls smiled. 

“ Want to walk around? ” Peg asked. “ We have 
loads of time. My sister Helen goes here — she’s in 
Four B, so I know a good bit about the school.” 

They walked into the corridor together, stopped at 
the fountain for a drink of water. Through one of 
the many open doors they saw a small, black-eyed 
woman in a tight black dress, sitting at the teacher’s 
desk. 

“ That’s Madame Renaud,” said Peg. “ We have 
her in French. Helen says she’s awfully strict, but 
the girls like her.” 

Ruthie looked at Madame Renaud with interest. 

“ Elle est tres vielle, n’est-ce pas? ” she asked, un- 
consciously lapsing into the other language that she 
had lisped along with her baby-English. 

“ What? ” Peg asked. 

Ruthie flushed. “ Oh — I didn’t mean to do that,” 
she said. Her whole past life seemed to rise up and 


6 RUTH IE 

conspire to make her different when she wanted more 
than anything in the world to be like the others, so 
like them that there would remain no personality of 
her own. “ I said that she’s quite old, isn’t she? ” 

“Yes.” Peg looked at her new friend curiously. 
What a strange and interesting girl she was! For it 
was quite apparent that Ruthie had not tried to show 
off, that the sight of the little Frenchwoman had turned 
her thoughts as well as her tongue into French. 

They walked along silently, and Peg opened a cur- 
tained door, while they peered into the assembly hall. 

“That’s the Parthenon frieze around the ceiling,” 
explained Peg. 

“ I know,” said Ruthie, “ I’ve seen it.” 

“ Seen what? ” 

“ The Parthenon. We were in Greece last winter.” 

“In Greece! ” 

“ Yes — Dad’s an engineer, and Mother and I travel 
around with him.” 

Peg’s dark eyes widened. “ Don’t you hate settling 
down here then? ” she asked at length. 

Ruthie shook her head until the round comb slipped 
from her long hair and fell to the floor. “ I love it! ” 
she said vehemently. “ You see, we’ve never been in 
one place very long, and I’ve never made any friends.” 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET 


7 


“ You mean you haven’t even one chum? ” 

“ Just Mother and Dad.” 

“ That’s not very nice. But you’ll make lots of 
friends here. Holloway is just — oh, there’s my chum! 
Moya! ” 

Moya McMahon was as blonde as Peg was dark; 
her hair was as curly and long as Peg’s was short and 
straight. Her violet eyes, dark-lashed and wide 
open, were sparkling with merriment. She hurried 
toward them and kissed Peg. 

“ This is Ruthie Blake, Moya. She’s just come to 
Holloway. Her father’s a — what’s your father, 
Ruthie? ” 

“ A construction engineer.” 

“ Yes — one of those. And she’s never lived any- 
where more’n a week, so she doesn’t know anyone 
at all. And she’s seen the Parthenon.” 

The mischief in Moya McMahon’s eyes seemed to 
overbrim as she laughed. “It’s something to be on 
speaking terms with the Parthenon, though,” she said. 
“ And she’ll know lots of people here. Going to stay 
in Holloway more’n a week? ” 

Ruthie laughed. “ I’d like to stay here forever,” she 
said. “ But I know it will be all this year and prob- 
ably longer. Dad promised me that. And Mother 


8 RUTHIE 

says it’s time I stayed in one place and learned some- 
thing. I’ve never been to school, you see — just tutors 
sometimes.” 

“ You haven’t missed much,” said Moya. “ But I 
suppose tutors are just as bad — they’re only sort of 
wandering teachers, aren’t they? ” 

Ruthie nodded. The three girls continued the tour 
of the school together, followed by curious eyes, while 
Moya kept up a constant chatter about the things she 
had been doing and was going to do, about the teachers 
and girls they passed. She said good-morning respect- 
fully to the statue of Hermes on the stairway landing, 
put her arm about the marble waist of the Psyche, and 
kissed her cold cheek, while Ruthie and Peg giggled 
delightedly. They had reached the physics laboratory 
on the third floor when a bell rang. 

“I’ll beat you down! ” Moya said, and slid down 
the winding banister, while Ruthie and Peg hurried 
down the stairs. On the landing of the second floor 
they caught up with her, and found her confronted by 
one of the teachers. Moya’s cheeks were scarlet, but 
the mischief had not died from her eyes. 

“ She said we’d got to remember that we were young 
ladies now,” Moya whispered, as they walked the rest 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET 9 
of the way sedately. “ And that such childish pursuits 
as sliding down banisters were quite out of place in 
King Street School.” 

Peg giggled. 

“ But who is she? ” Ruthie asked. “ I mean — why 
does she care what you do? ” 

“ She’s Miss Morton, the head English teacher,” 
Moya explained. “ There are two kinds of teachers, 
Ruthie. One kind wants to be friends — they’re great. 
But the other kind has a motto: Girls, whatever you’re 
doing, stop it! ” 

They were still laughing when they entered Room 
1 2 A. It was crowded with girls now, and Miss Orcutt, 
pretty and blonde, was seated at the desk, watching 
them. A second bell rang, and the whispering died 
away; Miss Orcutt turned over the papers on her desk, 
then she called the roll. Another silence. 

“ When do we get our books? ” Ruthie asked, lean- 
ing toward Peg. Unconsciously she had lowered her 
voice to a whisper. 

“ Do you wish to address the class, Ruth? ” asked 
Miss Orcutt. 

The girls giggled, and Ruthie looked up in surprise. 
“ I was speaking to Peg,” she said. 


IO RUTHIE 

The small fat girl behind Peg grew pink, as she 
hid her face hastily in her handkerchief ; Miss Orcutt 
rapped on her desk and looked at Ruthie sharply. 

“ Didn’t you hear the bell? ” 

“The bell? Yes, I think I did hear something a 
while ago.” 

“ Well? ” 

Ruthie flushed, and suddenly Peg realized that she 
did not know very much about school after all. 

“ There is to be no conversation of any kind after 
the nine o’clock bell,” Miss Orcutt announced. “ I 
thought you all knew that. Now I shall read from 
the Bible.” 

Ruthie sat down again and Peg smiled at her com- 
fortingly; across the room Moya McMahon made a 
face. Miss Orcutt’s voice was soft and gentle, and 
Ruthie leaned back in her seat contentedly, listening. 
Her face was puzzled, but suddenly it lighted up, as 
Miss Orcutt put down the Bible and there was silence 
again. 

“ Oh, I know what you mean! ” Her voice, tinged 
with a slight English accent that she had picked up 
in India and the Straits Settlements, broke through the 
stillness. “ You mean that we’re not to say anything 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET u 
after nine o’clock unless you give us permission. Does 
that hold through all the day? ” 

For a moment after she had finished speaking, the 
room was breathless. Then the entire class, including 
Miss Orcutt, broke out into laughter. 

“ That’s exactly what I mean,” Miss Orcutt said 
finally, still laughing. “ If you want to say anything 
you must raise your hand.” 

Ruthie’s hand shot up promptly, and Miss Orcutt 
nodded. 

“ That’s the way the Malays do when they’re hold- 
ing a council,” she explained eagerly. “ The chief gives 
the permission for conversation.” 

The class giggled again. “ It’s like that,” Miss 
Orcutt agreed, her lips twitching. “ And I’m the chief, 
Ruthie.” 

“ I see.” Ruthie’s head was whirling; school had 
really begun, and what a strange, interesting place 
it was! 

The morning was taken up in hurrying from class- 
room to class-room, receiving books until arms ached, 
making the acquaintance of the various teachers. The 
luncheon bell came as a relief, and Ruthie and Peg 
and Moya linked arms and hurried past the great gym- 


12 RUTH IE 

nasium into the lunch-room. It was a long, hall-like 
room, with gray walls; a counter ran about three sides, 
and girls were forming long lines at regular intervals. 

“ Caramel cake first! ” said Moya. “ Or else you 
won’t get any. What care we for nourishment? ” 

The cake and ice-cream line was much the longest, 
and after they had received that most important factor 
of their meal, Ruthie “ held ” a table, while the other 
two hurried off for a hot dish and sandwiches. 

“ I’ve brought you some real Chinese rice! ” Moya 
said triumphantly. “ I just barely got it — today there 
is rice and Boston baked beans, but I knew — ” 

“ Rice! ” said Ruthie. “Beans! Moya, I don’t 
think I shall ever eat another grain of rice as long as I 
live. You ought to stay in Pekin or Tokio or Singa- 
pore to get so tired of rice that you feel as though 
you were going to sprout with little green shoots if 
you went out in the rain. But beans! I’ve heard 
about Boston baked beans all my life, and I’ve never 
so much as seen them.” 

Moya laughed. “ I’ll eat your rice then,” she said. 
“ There are loads of beans — we get so sick and tired 
of them — ” 

“ Of beans? ” Ruthie asked incredulously. 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET 13 

“ Of beans/' Moya said. “ Wait here and I’ll run 
and get you some, though.” 

Ruthie ate ravenously, while the other two watched 
her in amusement. 

“ Think of finding beans a treat!” said Peg. 
“ Ruthie, you are a goose! ” 

Ruthie smiled and went on eating. 

“ Elbert’s sick,” Moya said suddenly. 

“ Who’s Elbert? ” asked Ruthie. 

“ Professor Jordan — you’re taking Greek, aren’t 
you? ” 

“ Yes — they’ve put me in the second year.” 

“ Fine — so are we. We’ll all be in the same class. 
We had Elbert last year, and he’s a funny old duck.” 

“ He’s so absent-minded that we’re always sur- 
prised when he puts both shoes on,” Peg explained. 
“ One day last year he came to class without his neck- 
tie — went around the whole day with his collar looking 
so funny and empty, and--” 

“And then the next day,” Moya interrupted, “he 
put his hand in his pocket and drew out a bunch of 
shoestrings. Ruthie, you’ve never seen anything so 
funny! He blushed perfectly scarlet, just as if shoe- 
strings were the most personal sort of article — like an 


RUTH IE 


H 

undershirt or something. I never saw such an embar- 
rassed man in my life! ” 

“ We had him a whole year,” continued Peg, “ and 
he doesn’t know any of us apart yet. He has cards 
with our names written on them, and he divides the 
class into thirds alphabetically and calls on us regu- 
larly — the first third, then the second, then the last.” 

“ It’s awfully convenient,” said Moya. “ You see 
if you have a terribly important engagement the night 
before, you don’t have to study your Greek unless you 
know you’re going to be called on.” 

They were still talking when the bell rang, and the 
afternoon session began. Peg and Moya walked home 
with Ruthie after school. 

“Do you suppose I could get a middy like yours 
in Holloway? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ I bought this one here,” Moya answered. “ But 
why? That blouse of yours is the prettiest, most dif- 
ferent thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“That’s just it. I don’t want to be different — I 
want to be just like the rest of you.” 

“You couldn’t,” said Peg. “And you ought to 
thank your stars.” 

“ If you really want it, I’ll lend you a middy,” said 
Moya. “ I have one I’ve never worn, but — ” 


RUTHIE COMES TO KING STREET IJ 

“ Oh, Moya! I’ll trade this waist for it! ” 

“ Ruthie! It’s not fair.” 

“ Oh, but it is. Please take it, Moya.” 

So the exchange was made, and Moya’s fair hair 
hung over the African waist, while Ruthie’s hair, now 
in braids like the other girls’, fell over a starched, regu- 
lation middy-blouse. 

Ruthie’s passion to be a perfectly average American 
girl became a joke with them as the weeks went on. 
She traded a pair of flowered Chinese hair-ribbons that 
the Holloway girls envied so much, for two plain brown 
taffeta ones; she rejected her blunt little French shoes 
of dark blue leather for ordinary brown oxfords. 

“ My tennis sneakers are all full of holes — don’t you 
think you’d better punch your new ones with a pen- 
knife? ” Moya would say. And, “ I’ve got an ink-spot 
on my dress,” Peg would go on. “ Hurry up, Ruthie, 
and spill some ink on your blouse or else people will 
know you’ve been somewhere besides Holloway.” 

Ruthie always smiled, but she continued steadily to 
discard everything that made her different; her vocabu- 
lary, her surprising knowledge of the world and its 
people, she could not discard. Still she read aloud 
more beautifully than any other girl — “ Mother and I 
have been so many places where there was no one to 


16 RUTHIE 

talk to that I’ve always read aloud,” she explained. 
“ Sometimes we didn’t have anything but Shakespeare 
and the Bible — I know I’ve read the Bible through 
aloud at least once.” And still she showed a most sur- 
prising lack of knowledge of arithmetic — ■“ I didn’t 
like it much, so I never bothered with it,” she apolo- 
gized. Her writing and spelling were scarcely better 
than a primary school girl’s — but in geography and lan- 
guages she was almost as well informed as her teachers. 

And at the end of her first month at King Street 
School, outwardly, at least, Ruthie was like any other 
Holloway girl; she might have been melted and poured 
into the same mould. 


CHAPTER II 


THE ADVENTURERS’ CLUB 
‘ ‘ T WISH today was Saturday,” Moya sighed, as the 

A three girls walked together along King street. 
“ Three more days — school is getting awfully dull.” 

Ruthie smiled. “ How I envy you, Moya ! ” she 
said. “ I know it’s the thing to do to be bored with 
school. I try just as hard as I can — all the time, in 
fact. But I can’t see it except as something exciting 
and wonderful. It’s so different from anything I’ve 
ever known.” 

“ What a girl! ” Peg and Moya looked from one an- 
other to their friend in amusement. 

Ruthie had met other girls, of course, during her 
month at the school, but the two chums were her fa- 
vorites, and the three had soon become known to the 
school and to Holloway as inseparable. Almost every- 
one in the entire six grades knew Ruthie; stories 
about her were carried from room to room. Moya 
McMahon, too, was a school figure; she was the sort 
of girl whom her companions adore, and over whom 
her teachers alternately laugh and shake their heads. 
17 


18 RUTH IE 

Peg was known more because of her association with 
the other two; ever since kindergarten days she had 
been Moya’s shadow, and although it was the older 
girl who planned the startling bits of mischief for 
which they were famous in Holloway, the younger 
carried them out with imagination and daring. 

Aileen Carter and Rose Delain were also favorites 
of Ruthie’s; Aileen was a tall serious girl, who was 
always hiding behind a book and a pair of enormous 
tortoise-rimmed glasses. Rose Delain was called by 
her friends “ that large girl,” or “ the stout girl over 
there,” but Rose herself had no hesitancy in admitting 
that she was fat. She was a veritable butter-ball of a 
girl, pink like a baby, with deep dimples in her cheeks. 
The story of her summer vacation was still a source 
of amusement to her class-mates; over and over again, 
with her throaty laugh, Rose related it. 

She had gone to visit her grandmother in a small 
town where numerous aunts and cousins lived with 
their families. “ And every blessed one of them,” Rose 
would say, “ looked at me, and said, ‘ So this is Maria’s 
little girl. How healthy she is! How much do you 
weigh, dear? ’ ” And Rose, unblushingly, admitted her 
one hundred and forty-five pounds. “There was a 
lake,” she would go on with her story. “ Just a little 


THE ADVENTURERS’ CLUB 


19 


lake, with a raft and a diving-board. And do you 
know, every time I dived into it, the poor thing over- 
flowed! ” 

“ But school is dull,” agreed Peg, breaking the silence 
that had fallen. “ Can’t we do anything about it? ” 
She looked at Moya expectantly. 

“ Of course we can,” Moya agreed promptly. 
“ That’s one of the most important reasons for school, 
Ruthie — to make you think of things to relieve the 
monotony. Develops the imagination. I wonder — ” 

They walked along silently, while Moya knit her 
forehead in thought. 

“ I know,” she broke out suddenly. “ We’ll have 
a club. Just us three. Sole purpose in life being to 
make things more exciting.” 

“ What sort of a club? ” Ruthie and Peg asked 
together. 

“ We’ll call it the Adventurers’ Club,” Moya^de- 
cided. “ There won’t be any officers — we’ll all be presi- 
dent. At least we’ll take turns. Each of us must plan 
and carry out one adventure a week. You’re first, 
Ruthie.” 

“Me? Heavens!” Ruthie looked up, startled. 
“ Let’s— let’s all not go to school some school day,” 
she said. 


20 


RUTHIE 


“ Play hookey? That’s not an adventure/’ said Peg 
scornfully. 

“ Isn’t it? I’ve always read about playing truant. 
But I don’t want to do it really — school is too much 
fun. Now don’t laugh.” She looked at them reproach- 
fully. “It is fun for me, you see. Let’s — let’s go 
on a picnic.” 

Moya burst out laughing. “ Ruthie Blake, you’re 
impossible! After all your travels to think that you 
can’t imagine anything more exciting than a picnic! ” 

“ I’ll try,” Ruthie said meekly. “ But I’ve never 
been on a picnic. Or else I’ve been on a picnic all 
my life — we’ve certainly eaten in strange places. You 
think of something, Moya.” 

“ But I thought of the club.” 

“ All the more reason why you should plan the first 
adventure,” Peg said promptly. “ Isn’t it, Ruthie? ” 

Ruthie nodded. 

“ Elbert gets back today,” Moya said thoughtfully. 

“You don’t call that an adventure, do you? Of 
course I’m glad to see the substitute go — Elbert’s lots 
more fun, but — ” 

“ It will be an adventure,” Moya interrupted Peg. 
“Oh, what an adventure! ” She chuckled to herself. 

“ Tell us,” begged Ruthie, but Moya shook her head. 


THE ADVENTURERS’ CLUB 


21 


“ If I tell maybe you won’t do it. You’ll know soon 
enough.” 

“ Please! ” said Peg. 

“ No — you’ve got to wait.” 

They waited impatiently. Mathematics class 
dragged even more than usual; the English hour was 
interminable. 

“Tell us now,” Ruthie pleaded, as the three hur- 
ried through the corridor toward Professor Jordan’s 
room. 

“ In about five minutes,” said Moya. 

The bell rang, and Ruthie and Peg watched the 
president of the Adventurers’ Club closely. Whenever 
they caught her eye — and it was often — she giggled 
delightedly. Ruthie turned her eyes toward the tall, 
stooping man who faced them. This, then, was the 
absent-minded professor about whom she had heard so 
much. She decided quickly that she liked him; there 
was something pleasing and lovable about his wistful 
face. And he was to be the central figure of their 
first adventure! 

He coughed, and his pale blue eyes roamed about 
the crowded room. 

“ I am glad,” he said, “ to see that so many of you 
are taking advantage of this course.” He looked up 


22 


RUTHIE 


mildly at Moya’s giggle. “ This is the largest class 
I have ever had/’ he went on. “ I like to see girls 
interested in the Greek language — the tendency these 
days is away from it, rather than toward it. Greek — ” 

Ruthie listened, with one eye on Moya. 

“ And now,” he said, having concluded the talk that 
he gave at the beginning of every school year, “ I will 
take the roll.” 

The girls answered as he called out their names 
from the stack of cards before him; Peg and Moya 
were among them. 

“ Are there any new girls? ” 

Ruthie rose with the others and gave her name. 
As she sat down, her eyes grew wide and wondering. 
Moya was standing! 

“ Name, please? ” Professor Jordan asked her ab- 
sently. 

Moya hesitated for a fraction of a second. “ Rosa- 
lind Park,” she said in a low voice. 

A murmur ran about the room; the girls looked at 
one another in amazement. What was the irrepres- 
sible Moya attempting? Ruthie and Peg looked at her 
questioningly. 

The professor squinted through his glasses for a 


THE ADVENTURERS’ CLUB 


23 

moment, then wrote the name on one of the blank 
cards. The rest of the hour passed quickly; books 
were distributed, the lesson for the next day was as- 
signed. Ruthie and Peg were like young puppies 
straining at a leash until the bell rang. Then they 
rushed up to Moya excitedly, found her already sur- 
rounded by other girls, in the corridor. 

“ What on earth — ” Peg began. 

And — “ But, Moya! ” Ruthie said. 

“ Adventure One,” said Moya, laughing. Her eyes 
were shining; she loved to be in the center of excite- 
ment. “ You all know how absent-minded Elbert is? ” 
The girls nodded. “ He didn’t know me from Adam — 
or Eve — when I stood up. So we’re going to invent a 
new girl, Rosalind Park, and carry her through the 
entire course.” 

“ But, Moya — ” began Ruthie, once again. 

“ It’s going to be more fun! ” said Moya. “ Girls — 
I want you to meet my friend, Rosalind Park.” 

“ Delighted,” Rose Delain said, laughing. 

“ Who’ll recite for her? ” Ruthie asked doubtfully. 

“Us three. We’ll take turns — Elbert will never 
notice.” 

“ Are you sure? ” 


24 


RUTH IE 


“ Of course. But that’s the excitement, anyway.” 

Peg suddenly began to laugh, and the other girls 
joined her. 

“ She’s in the second third,” Moya explained. 
“ She’ll be called on to recite the day after tomorrow. 
Who’ll take her? ” 

“ I will,” Ruthie offered eagerly, before Peg could 
speak. “ I’ll be called on tomorrow, you see.” 

By the next day, the entire Greek class had been 
introduced to Miss Park. Most of the girls were as 
amused and excited as the three “Adventurers”; 
Marion Allen, a small, serious girl, the president of the 
Greek Club, alone, disapproved the idea. 

“ It’s lying, Moya,” she objected. 

“ Of course it isn’t,” Moya denied. “ It’s just pre- 
tending. I don’t say I’m Rosalind — neither do Peg 
or Ruthie. We just recite for her. If Professor Jordan 
actually asked us, point-blank — why, that would be 
different.” 

“ It’s acting a lie, though.” 

“Nonsense — it’s a game.” 

“ But it is! And because I know about it, I’m in 
it, too. I don’t think you ought to, Moya.” 

Moya frowned. “ Don’t be a goody, Marion,” she 
said. “ You won’t have to recite for her.” 


THE ADVENTURERS’ CLUB 25 

Eventually she persuaded Marion at least to be silent 
on the subject of Rosalind, but when on Wednesday 
Professor Jordan called upon Miss Park to recite, there 
was a tense silence over the class-room, and Marion 
Allen looked out the window steadfastly. 

“ Miss Park, I said,” Professor Jordan repeated, 
looking about the room. “ She isn’t absent, is she? 99 
Ruthie rose to her feet excitedly. 


CHAPTER III 


ROSALIND 

R UTHIE’S heart thumped, as she began to trans- 
late. When she had finished, Professor Jordan 
looked at her with interest. 

“ Excellent, Miss Park,” he said, in his rumbling 
voice. “ You are the new girl, aren’t you? ” 

“Yes,” Ruthie answered faintly. At least that 
was true. 

“ With whom have you studied Greek? ” he went on. 
The class-room was still breathless; rarely had he 
displayed such interest in anything. 

“ Why — with a tutor,” said Ruthie. That also was 
true, she comforted herself. 

“ You do him credit. Will Miss McMahon go on? ” 
Moya got up hastily. She thought that Professor 
Jordan had forgotten her, and her thoughts had been 
wandering. And she had not even glanced at her 
lesson the night before. 

Luck brought her one of the easy passages; one of 
the paragraphs that occur time after time in Xenophon. 

“ From there they journeyed — er — twelve days’ 
march r twenty parasangs,” she drawled. “ Then they 
26 


ROSALIND 


27 


arrived at a — a — ” She paused, and Ruthie and Peg 
listened, wondering what she would do. It was a new 
word, and they knew that Moya had no idea of its 
meaning. She looked up brightly, smiling at the pro- 
fessor. “ Oh, Professor Jordan,” she said, “ it’s the 
strangest thing. I found two meanings for that word. 
They both seemed to fit, and it was awfully confusing. 
I looked it up in the bi — I mean large — dictionary 
on your desk — the red one. And — Which meaning 
would you use, Professor Jordan? ” 

Ruthie drew in her breath, and her eyes widened. 

“ Which? Oh, by all means, by all means,” Pro- 
fessor Jordan answered, looking up absently. “ Moun- 
tain pass is much the better — much. Gateway is ‘quite 
rare, quite rare, indeed.” 

“ Thank you. From there they journeyed twelve 
days’ march, twenty parasangs,” Moya repeated. 
“ Then they arrived at a mountain pass and — er — ” 

Peg coughed loudly, looking from Professor Jordan 
to the clock, and piling her books noisily. Rose Delain, 
understanding the difficulties of the situation, pulled 
out her home-lesson book and asked him for a pencil. 

“ Dear me, so it is,” he said. “ Well, for tomor- 
row — ” 

“ Unprepared! ” said the class, in relieved chorus. 


28 


RUTH IE 


“ The next day, then — translate ahead for thirty 
lines, and look up all the irregular verbs in the lesson 
for a slight quiz.” 

The bell rang, and as the girls passed his desk, 
Ruthie noticed a check beside Moya’s name in the 
brown covered notebook — a perfect recitation. 

“ I’d just as soon take Rosalind’s quiz tomorrow,” 
said Peg. “ I write awfully fast, and I answered pres- 
ent for her today, anyway.” 

The paper was passed for the examination the next 
day, and she hurried through her own work, began 
on the second sheet, headed with Rosalind’s name be- 
fore the other girls had reached the fifth of the ten 
questions. She explained later that whenever she was 
in doubt about a question, she wrote on the second 
paper the opposite answer to her own. 

The examinations were exchanged, and Professor 
Jordan read the answers slowly. Ruthie corrected 
both Peg’s and Rosalind’s papers. 

“ Everyone who has one hundred, stand,” said Pro- 
fessor Jordan, unexpectantly. 

No one moved. 

“ Ninety-five or over.” 

The class-room was silent. 

“Ninety or over.” 


ROSALIND 


29 

Rosalind had ninety-two. Peg looked at Ruthie, and 
Ruthie looked at Peg. There was a moment of hesita- 
tion; then Ruthie stood up. 

“ Name? ” 

“ Park.” 

Professor Jordan scribbled down a note. “ Eighty- 
five or over.” 

Ruthie had eighty-seven, but she did not dare stand 
again. When Professor Jordan reached sixty, Ruthie 
was still seated, so she was failed with the others, 
including Peg, who had hurried so rapidly through her 
own paper that she had made many careless mistakes. 
Moya passed, as always. 

The next day when the roll was called, Peg an- 
swered “ Absent! ” in an annoyed voice when Rosalind 
Park was called. Ruthie and Moya were angry, be- 
cause they wanted Rosalind to have a perfect attend- 
ance record. 

“ Why did you? ” Moya asked, as they hurried into 
the lunch-room. 

“ I’m tired of Rosalind,” Peg said. “ You and 
Ruthie talk about her all the time — I think you care 
more for her than you do for me. You’re always talk- 
ing about her. And Greek is the only subject I have 
with you, except French and lunch.” 


30 


RUTH IE 


But soon Peg was laughing at the idea of being 
jealous of Rosalind, and the first adventure of the club 
was once again in favor. The Greek marks of the 
three girls improved steadily; almost every night there 
was individual home-work, and one of them attended 
to Rosalind’s; other lessons might be studied hur- 
riedly, but they were jealous of Rosalind’s record, 
and Greek was never neglected. 

At the end of the month, Professor Jordan announced 
that Miss Park had gained the highest mark in Greek. 

“ Will Rosalind Park stand? ” 

“Absent! Absent! ” Moya cried. 

“ I thought she answered the roll? ” Professor Jor- 
dan squinted at Moya thoughtfully. 

“ No.” 

“ I made a mistake. Too bad^-I’d like to congratu- 
late her. Is she ill? ” 

“ She’s left school! ” Marion Allen snapped. Marion 
was half in tears, because she had wanted the place 
of honor in Greek, herself. 

“ She hasn’t! ” Moya contradicted indignantly. 

“ She has measles,” Peg called cheerfully. 

“Scarlet fever! ” said Aileen Carter at the same 
moment. 

“ She’ll be back tomorrow,” said Ruthie excitedly. 


ROSALIND 


3i 


“ Silence! ” roared Professor Jordan, rapping on the 
desk. “ Don’t all try to talk at once! Does anyone 
know where Miss Park has gone? ” 

“ She is ill,” Moya said, rising. “ I think she will 
be back in a day or two.” 

“ Thank you. The next highest mark was Marion 
Allen’s — ” 

The class grew quiet; the reading of the monthly 
marks was always a serious affair. Ruthie and Peg 
and Moya were all in the nineties; they had Rosalind 
to thank for that. 

In a week, Rosalind reappeared in the class, and 
the three Adventurers rapidly wished that they had 
not contradicted Marion’s statement. Professor Jor- 
dan had never been so insistent about the making 
up of lost lessons, and they worked during lunch- 
hours and on Saturdays, until Rosalind was rein- 
stated. The second month came to an end, and the 
class assembled for the election of new officers of the 
Greek Club. 

“ Miss Allen has done splendidly in her office,” Pro- 
fessor Jordan said. “ Will someone make a nomination 
for her successor? ” 

“ Rosalind Park,” called out one of the girls, and 
a sudden giggle spread about the room. 


32 RUTHIE 

The professor beamed. “ I am pleased to hear Miss 
Park’s name,” he said. “ She is an excellent student, 
and, I understand, a very popular girl.” 

Ruthie and Peg looked at Moya helplessly. She 
stood up, as they had expected, but to her surprise, 
nominated Ruthie as vice-president. The election was 
carried. 

“ But Moya — ” Ruthie began. 

“ It’s very simple,” Moya explained. “ When you’re 
absent — pretendedly — Rosalind can officiate; when 
she’s absent, you can.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know! ” wailed Ruthie. “ It’s getting 
to be an awful mix-up, Moya. And I don’t want to 
be marked absent — I’ve had a perfect record so far. 
Besides, if Professor Jordan sends in word to Miss 
Orcutt that I’ve been absent, she’ll think I’ve been 
cutting Greek class.” 

“I never thought of that! ” 

“ And if they’re both absent more than three times, 
they’ll be dropped as officers,” Peg said. “ Moya, you 
shouldn’t have nominated Ruthie.” 

“ I’m sorry. And I can’t be Rosalind, because yes- 
terday Professor Jordan stopped and spoke to me for 
a long time — called me Miss McMahon and every- 


ROSALIND 


33 

thing. He said I had one of the few faces he could 
remember, and — ” 

“ Moya, he didn’t! ” Peg wailed. “ He couldn’t 
have! He said that to me, too! ” 

Ruthie buried her face in her hands hopelessly. 

“I guess we’ll have to kill Rosalind, then,” said 
Moya. 

“ Oh, no! ” 

“ But what else? ” 

Ruthie drew a deep breath. “ I’ll telj you what 
else,” she said. “ I don’t want Rosalind to go — and 
Greek is the only class we can possibly have her in. 
I’ll sacrifice myself. I’ll simply disappear and be 
Rosalind.” 

“ But, Ruthie — ” 

“ You’ll be failed in Greek! ” 

“ I don’t care,” Ruthie said. “ It seems like murder 
to just drop Rosalind. I’d miss her so. So I’m going 
to become her” 

“ It’s — it’s almost like committing suicide,” said Peg 
solemnly. 

Ruthie nodded unhappily. “ But I’m going to do 
it,” she said. 

The next day she did not answer the roll, nor the 


34 


RUTHIE 


following day. The day after that, Ruthie Blake was 
still marked absent. The Greek Club met, and Ruthie 
was addressed as Miss Park. A little furrow appeared 
between her eyes; she sympathized with criminals, 
and all people who were forced to lead a double life. 
Ten days passed, and Ruth Blake had not recited. 

Professor Jordan was calling on the first third of 
his class, and Ruthie listened mechanically. Rosalind 
would not be called until the next day. She looked 
absently out the window. Suddenly Professor Jordan 
called, “ Miss Blake! ” 

She got up and translated. When she had finished 
and sat down, still unconscious of what she had done, 
Professor Jordan called her attention by words that 
sent shivers up and down her back. 

“ Have you your excuse for absence? ” he asked. 

It was only then that she realized what she had done. 

“ My excuse for absence? ” she echoed stupidly. 
“ I — ” She braced herself. “ I haven’t been absent, 
Professor Jordan.” 

Moya stared in terror, as she realized what Ruthie 
was attempting. 

Professor Jordan’s expression was curious. “ Will 
you see me after school, Miss — er — Blake? ” he said. 

The room was ominously silent. 


ROSALIND 


35 


“ Yes, Professor Jordan,” Ruthie said meekly. 

At lunch she was silent, frightened. “ Will two 
o’clock ever come? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, Ruthie,” Moya said. “ I’m so sorry.” 

Peg looked at her mournfully. 

“ What will we do? ” Ruthie wailed. 

Moya stood up suddenly. “I’m going to him my- 
self,” she announced. “ It was my fault. I — ” 

“ No,” said Ruthie, “ I’m in it — and I did it. You 
two didn’t want me to pretend to be Rosalind all the 
time, but I did. I’ll go.” 

At two o’clock Moya and Peg waited unhappily in 
the hall, while Ruthie opened the door of the Greek 
room. Professor Jordan sat, reading a book, looking 
out at a room of empty chairs. 

“ Won’t you sit down? ” he asked, indicating an 
empty chair beside him. For a moment he read on, 
while Ruthie trembled. “ Ever read much Shakes- 
peare? ” he asked. 

“ I almost fainted when he asked me that,” Ruthie 
said later when she told Moya and Peg about it. “ I 
thought of Rosalind in ‘ As You Like It ’ and how she 
played a dual role, and of Viola in ‘ A Winter’s Tale.’ 
It was awful.” 

“ Yes, Professor Jordan.” she answered. “ I’ve read 


36 RUTHIE 

aloud to my mother — all of Shakespeare, I think.” 

He looked at her and smiled. “ Then you’re familiar 
with ‘ The Merchant of Venice ’? ” 

“ Very,” Ruthie answered. She felt as though she 
were being submitted to some medieval torture. The 
Inquisition could have been no wqrse. Why didn’t 
he say what he was going to say, instead of tormenting 
her? She glanced at him timidly; he was smiling. 

“ Miss Blake, we’re giving ‘ The Merchant of 
Venice ’ in Holloway Hall — you know what an enor- 
mous place it is, of course. And I’m doing the coach- 
ing. I used to go in for dramatics a bit in college.” 

“ Yes, Professor Jordan.” Why didn’t he say what 
he was going to say? 

“ I’m looking for a girl to play Portia,” he went on. 
“ I want someone who is young and slender, and yet 
who has the courage to face that huge audience. And 
a girl who is familiar with Shakespeare.” 

“Yes, Professor Jordan.” Ruthie’s knuckles were 
white from grasping the edges of her chair. 

“ I’ve been watching you quite a bit lately.” His 
blue eyes seemed almost to twinkle, as hp looked at 
her. “ It seems to me that you will make a very 
good amateur actress. You’re the type of girl I want, 
and somehow I feel that you could throw yourself into 


ROSALIND 


37 

the part, give up your identity completely — not act 
the part of Portia, but become Portia. I don’t like to 
be slangy, Miss Blake, but I feel somehow that you 
don’t start things you can’t finish.” 

“ I — I try to finish things,” Ruthie faltered. 

“ I realize that sometimes there are difficulties,” 
he said, and again he seemed to be smiling to himself. 
“ Will you look over the part, Miss Blake? ” 

Ruthie nodded. She was too confused to answer, 
too puzzled to be glad. She waited and Professor 
Jordan turned back to his book. 

“ Is — is that all? ” she asked. 

“ Yes. I want you to read through the part, and 
we’ll talk it over tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

“ Goodnight, Professor Jordan.” 

He held out his hand, and she put hers into it. 

Moya and Peg looked at her in surprise when she 
joined them. They had expected to find her in tears, 
at least. 

“ But — what could he mean? ” Peg asked, when 
Ruthie had finished her story. 

“ He didn’t say anything about Rosalind? ” Moya 
asked incredulously. 

“ Did he — forget? ” Peg asked. 

Suddenly Moya laughed. “ The— old— darling! ” 


38 RUTHIE 

she said. " I’ll never call him Elbert again in a disre- 
spectful way. The — old — darling! ” 

“ But — do you think he knows? ” Ruthie asked. 
Moya’s eyes danced. “ Ask him,” she advised. 
“ And now let’s erect a fitting tombstone for Rosalind 
in my back-yard. The first adventure is over.” 

At the end of the month, when the report cards 
were passed out, Ruthie had no absences, and the 
highest mark of the entire class in Greek. Professor 
Jordan never called on Rosalind again. 

But Rosalind Park did not die completely; she 
became a part of the school tradition. A senior, com- 
plaining because her physics notebook was lost, would 
sigh, and say, “Well, I suppose Rosalind took it! ” 
A broken window, any accident or prank about King 
Street School was attributed to her. When the Metho- 
dist church burned to the ground, Peg said, “ Do you 
suppose Rosalind could be a fire-bug? ” Even after 
Peg and Moya and Ruthie had been graduated from 
the last year of the King Street School, Rosalind re- 
mained, as much a part of the school as ever. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

H OLLOWAY HALL was crowded with girls and 
teachers, talking rapidly, interrupting each 
other, gesticulating with small red books. 

“ Who’s that girl over there? ” Ann Bradley asked 
of the group of girls who surrounded her. “ The one 
talking to Professor Jordan? ” 

Martha Weston, president of the senior class, 
laughed. “ My dear, it’s the biggest joke,” she said. 
“ Her name’s Ruth Blake — she’s a second-year girl — 
not even a freshman. And Professor Jordan has actu- 
ally chosen her to play Portia.” 

“ Portia! ” 

“ Yes.” 

Ann was already letter-perfect in the part of Bas- 
sanio, and she looked at Ruthie incredulously. 

“ But you know why he chose her, don’t you? ” 
asked Amy McBride. Amy was only a sophomore, 
but she was known and beloved by all the girls in all 
six years of King Street School. She was a short fat 


39 


RUTH IE 


40 

girl, with small black eyes and untidy red hair, and her 
sense of humor showed in every line of her face, in 
her large mouth that turned up at the corners, in her 
tilted nose, in the wrinkles about her eyes. 

“No! ” 

They waited, wondering, while Amy related the story 
of Rosalind. Martha and Ann were giggling as gaily as 
any first-year girls when she had finished. 

“ It’s an amusing story,” Kathleen Herbert said, 
“but I shouldn’t think Professor Jordan would play 
favorites like that. After all, she may be a nice child, 
but it’s absurd to have a little kid playing the lead.” 

“ Oh, she probably’ll do all right,” Martha Weston 
said easily. “ Professor Jordan’s no fool, you know.” 

“ But she’s so short — I always think of Portia as a 
tall woman with blonde hair — not a little snub-nosed 
girl.” Kathleen, herself, was perhaps too tall for a 
girl; she had sat out many class dances because the 
average boys who attended were smaller than she. 

“ But none of us will look the parts exactly, Katie,” 
said Ann. “ I don’t look much like a man, you know’.” 

“That’s different. She’ll probably -get frightened 
and spoil the play — she can’t be more than fourteen, 
Ann.” 

“She’s thirteen, I believe,” Martha said quietly. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


4i 

“ But after that story of Rosalind, I’ll stand with 
Professor Jordan and back her in anything.” She 
looked after Kathleen as she walked away, and turned 
towards Ann and Amy with a smile. “ Kathleen’s a 
nice girl,” she said, “ but she ought to get over being 
jealous. She expected to do Portia, you know, and 
Miss Morton has chosen her for Nerissa.” 

They looked over at Ruthie, standing beside Pro- 
fessor Jordan. She was not so tall as Kathleen Her- 
bert, but she was large for her thirteen and a half 
years, and pretty. Her brown hair hung in a long 
braid down her back; the eyes that were turned towards 
the professor were large and gray, with dark lashes. 

“ I think she’ll make a nice Portia,” Ann said re- 
flectively. “ What’s her voice like, Martha? ” 

“ I’ve never spoken to her. Don’t you know her, 
Amy? ” 

Amy shook her head. “ She probably won’t bite us 
if we go over and make friends though,” she said. 
“ I’m not scared even if she is a second-year girl. 
Come along.” 

“ As her future suitor and husband, I think I have 
a right to introduce myself,” said Ann. 

Professor Jordan looked up and nodded as the three 
came over. “ You know Miss Blake, don’t you? ” 


RUTH IE 


42 

he asked. “ Miss Weston and Miss Bradley are 
seniors,” he added to Ruthie. “ Miss McBride con- 
ducts the humorous column of The Sugar Plum Tree” 
The S. P. T. was the King Street School magazine, 
and Ruthie looked up admiringly at Amy McBride. 

“ I’ve heard about you all,” she said, shaking hands 
with them shyly. “ You’re all in the play, aren’t you? ” 
Ann Bradley made a sweeping bow. “ ‘ In Belmont 
is a lady richly left, and she is fair, and fairer than 
the word, of wondrous virtues,’ ” she said dramatically. 

Ruthie smiled. “ Bassanio! ” she said. “ ‘ I remem- 
ber him well,’ ” she quoted. “ ‘ And I remember him 
worthy of thy praise.’ ” 

They laughed together. 

“ I, of course, am the comic relief,” said Amy. 
“ Launcelot Gobbo. And Martha, here, is your little 
friend Shylock.” 

Ruthie had been frightened at the thought of play- 
ing Portia in the great hall; she knew that it was an 
unprecedented thing for a girl from one of the two 
lower classes to take part in a school play. But the 
older girls were so friendly, so ready to take Ruthie 
into their group, that she soon found herself chattering 
as happily as though they were Peg and Moya. 



“I was so astonished when I heard you were to play Portia” 




THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


43 


“ And here’s your companion, Ruth,” Professor Jor- 
dan said, stopping Kathleen Herbert as she came to- 
ward them. “ Nerissa.” 

Ruthie held out her hand, and the older girl took it. 
“ I was so astonished when I heard that you were to 
play Portia,” she said. “ Have you ever taken part 
in amateur theatricals before? ” 

“ No,” Ruthie said. “ I’m awfully excited over it 
all.” 

“ I should think you might be — it’s going to mean a 
lot of work and responsibility, you know. You’ve got 
to be at rehearsals and — ” 

“ I think that Ruth understands that,” Professor 
Jordan interrupted, and Kathleen Herbert flushed. 
The other three girls drew Ruthie aside, but they could 
see that she had become nervous and upset. 

They were interrupted by Miss Morton, the head 
English teacher, who stood on the stage, rapping 
with a ruler on the table. Gradually the hall became 
quiet. 

“ Today we are going to read through the parts,” 
she announced. “ Will Antonio, Salarino and Solanio 
come here? ” 

Three juniors hurried noiselessly forward, and 


RUTH IE 


44 

mounted the steps to the stage. Ruthie listened while 
they read their parts, her heart pounding beneath her 
blue middy-blouse. Ann Bradley detached herself 
from the group and hurried up to the stage; two other 
girls followed her. 

“Antonio! ” said Miss Morton sharply. 

The girl who was reading the part looked up mildly. 
“ Yes, Miss Morton? ” 

“ You’re not to act as though someone had just 
made you a present of a diamond necklace, you know. 
Remember — ‘ A stage where every man must play a 
part — and mine a sad one.’ ” 

Gratianio giggled, and Miss Morton rapped sharply 
again on the table; the scene progressed. 

“ Portia and Nerissa,” Miss Morton announced. 

Ruthie’s hands were ice cold; she tried to speak to 
Professor Jordan as she hurried up to the stage, but 
her voice would not come. Perhaps she would never 
be able to speak again! Her eyes were terrified, and 
Professor Jordan followed her. 

“ Remember you are Portia,” he whispered. “ I’m 
expecting a lot of you, Ruth.” 

She nodded dumbly, took her place on the stage. 

“ All right,” said Miss Morton. 

Ruthie swallowed. “ 1 By my troth, Nerissa,’ ” she 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


45 


said, “ ‘ My little body is a-weary of this great world.’ ” 
Miraculously the words came; her voice rang out 
through the quiet hall. 

Kathleen Herbert read her response in a clear, cool 
voice, looking at Ruthie disapprovingly. 

“ 4 Good sentences, and well pronounced,’ ” read 
Ruthie tremulously. 

“ ‘ They would be better if well followed,’ ” answered 
Nerissa. The words were Shakespeare’s, but Ruthie 
felt somehow as though she had been scolded. She 
was glad when the later scenes came, and she was no 
longer alone with Kathleen. 

The rehearsal progressed rapidly. Ann Bradley 
hardly glanced at her book; she recited her lines glibly 
and with good expression; Martha Weston, as Shylock, 
was so hesitant and uncertain, mispronounced so many 
words, made so many mistakes, that Ruthie wondered 
how she could ever act the part. And Amy McBride 
was worst of all. She knew her lines fairly well, but 
she was so unexpectedly funny that the other girls 
could hardly speak for their laughter. 

“ Amy, I know you’re playing the fool,” Miss Mor- 
ton said sharply, “ but there’s no need for stopping 
the progress of the play. I’ll have to find someone else 
to take the part if you don’t behave.” But the Eng- 


46 RUTH IE 

lish teacher’s mouth had quirked up at the corners, and 

everyone knew that although the entire cast might 

be turned about, Amy would still remain Launcelot 

Gobbo. 

Professor Jordan sat in the front row of the audi- 
ence, watching the girls without comment. When the 
rehearsal was over, he arose. 

“ Tomorrow, I hope you will be more familiar with 
your lines,” he said. “ Miss Bradley is the only one 
of you who really knows them. I’m not going to try 
to do anything with you until you can lift your eyes 
from your books for more than a second.” 

Ruthie flushed, but the other girls did not seem par- 
ticularly impressed by his remarks. 

“ You mustn’t be too sensitive, Ruthie,” Martha 
Weston said. “ First rehearsals are always like this. 
But it’s really going quite splendidly, don’t you 
think? ” 

Ruthin nodded. It really had gone well; the girls 
seemed well cast in their roles; for the most part 
they spoke clearly and with emphasis. 

“ Tomorrow, then,” called Miss Morton. “ At three 
sharp.” 

Peg and Moya were sitting on the steps of Ruthie’s 
house when she reached it. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


47 

“ Well, how’s Sarah Bernhardt, Junior? ” Moya 
greeted her cheerfully. 

Ruthie grinned. “ It’s going pretty well,” she said. 

“ Going to walk down with us and get an ice 
cream? ” asked Peg. 

“ I’ve got to study my part.” 

Peg pouted. “ I don’t suppose we’ll see anything of 
you now until the play is over,” she complained. 

“Oh, well, those girls who associate with seniors 
always get puffed up,” said Moya. 

Ruthie reached out and caught Moya’s long hair. 
“You take that back! ” she said. 

Moya wriggled, laughing. “ She doesn’t want to 
be seen with us,” she said to Peg. “ Suppose she 
should meet Martha Weston! ” 

“ Moya! ” 

“ Oh, don’t be so serious, Ruthie,” Moya said. “ You 
know we understand and we’re awfully proud of you. 
Run along and learn to be a great actress. And when 
the play is produced, we’re going to send up a most 
beautiful bunch of cabbages and onions to you.” 

Ruthie laughed, and went into the house. Moya had 
said they were proud of her ! She hurried to her room 
and opened “ The Merchant of Venice,” began reading 
her part carefully. 


4 8 RUTHIE 

The second rehearsal was less promising than the 
first; Martha stumbled badly through her part, Ann 
Bradley had already forgotten some of her lines. At 
the third rehearsal, it was incredible to Ruthie that 
Ann had ever known them; she forgot her cues; she 
could recite little more than three lines without prompt- 
ing. 

“ I think you must have been in a trance at the first 
rehearsal, Miss Bradley,” Professor Jordan said wear- 
ily. “ What’s the matter with your memory? ” 

“ I’m sorry,” Ann said. “ I’ll study tonight, .Pro- 
fessor Jordan.” 

Some days Ruthie came home from rehearsal in 
tears, convinced that the play would never be learned 
completely. Girls who acted like professionals one 
day were stiff and unexpressive as marionettes another ; 
Antonio still took the loss of his fortune, and the fact 
that he was in danger of losing a pound of flesh nearest 
his heart, with a cheerfulness that outrivaled Polly- 
anna. And still Ruthie’s scenes with Kathleen were 
painfully stilted. 

“ I don’t know what the matter with you is, Ruth,” 
Miss Morton said impatiently. “ You read your lines 
well; at times you act with expression. But when- 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


49 

ever you and Kathleen are together, you’re impossible. 
And it isn’t Kathleen’s fault — she’s doing well.” 

Ruthie flushed. It was impossible to explain the 
effect that Kathleen had upon her; even if she could 
have put it into words, she would not have told. She 
felt young and helpless before the older girl’s cool, 
disapproving eyes. 

“ There’s barely a week before the performance,” 
Miss Morton continued. “ On Monday, I’ll have a 
special rehearsal for the Portia and Nerissa scenes. 
Can you both come? ” 

“ I can,” Kathleen answered. Her tone seemed to 
Ruthie to imply that she knew it would be a waste 
of time. 

“ I can come,” Ruthie said dully. 

On Saturday and Sunday, Ruthie read and reread 
her scenes until she could almost recite them back- 
ward. Monday morning, when Moya and Peg stopped 
at her house on their way to school, they found her 
tired and listless. 

“ We’re going out to Holloway Hills after school to- 
day to get nuts,” Moya said. “ Come with us, Ruthie 
— it’ll do you a world of good to get completely away 
from the play for an afternoon.” 


50 


RUTHIE 


“ Oh, I’d love to ! ” The thought of trampling along 
the hill paths, of shuffling through the carpet of crack- 
ling leaves banished everything else from her mind. 

“ We have a French exam tomorrow,” Moya said, 
“ but you don’t have to worry about that. It’s just 
about as easy for you as though we were going to 
be quizzed on the alphabet.” 

“ Oh, Moya! Had we better go today then? ” 

Moya laughed. “ Ruthie, I prepare for an exam 
in exactly the same way I steer around things when 
I’m driving Dad’s car,” she said. “ When I see a car- 
riage coming and I think I’m going to take a wheel 
off, I close my eyes, and keep ’em closed until I’m 
safely past.” 

“ Cramming does mix things up,” Ruthie admitted. 
“ But — What if we talk nothing but French all day 
today? ” 

“ Ruthie! ” Moya assumed an expression of horror. 
“ But suppose I want to say something to you? I 
can’t go about all afternoon telling you to fermez la 
porte and ouvrez la fenetre and ou est mon crayon! ” 

Ruthie shrugged her shoulders. Moya was impos- 
sible. And after all, she usually managed to get an 
average of sixty-five in her studies. 

“ I’m too busy to study,” Moya used to say, when 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


5i 

either Peg or Ruthie remonstrated with her. “ Who 
would eat all the nut sundaes at Marvin’s if I began 
to study? Just think how neglected and unhappy 
they’d feel! ” 

So after school Ruthie and Moya and Peg started 
out for the Holloway hills. In the corridor of the 
school, they met Kathleen Herbert. 

“ Where are you going? ” she asked. 

“ Holloway Hills,” Ruthie answered. 

At the time, Ruthie wondered at Kathleen’s smile. 

The hills were covered with a blanket of leaves; 
the wind dipped through them, tossing them into the 
air, making them rise and fall like a great brown 
ocean. 

“ Oh, how good it smells! ” Ruthie said. She was 
sitting upon a tree-stump, vainly endeavoring to un- 
tangle from her hair the acorns and bits of grass that 
Moya had poured over her. 

“ Let’s come out again Saturday,” Peg suggested. 

“ Let’s.” Suddenly Ruthie sat up very straight, and 
stared at them. “ Saturday’s the play! ” she said, 
aghast. 

“ Well, Sunday, then,” Peg said. “ What’s the mat- 
ter, Ruthie? ” 

“ What day is today? ” Ruthie demanded. 


52 RUTHIE 

“ Monday — there’s no rehearsal today is there? ” 
Moya asked. 

“ There’s a special rehearsal this afternoon,” said 
Ruthie solemnly. “ I forgot all about it.” 

“ Oh, Ruthie! ” 

Moya looked at her wrist watch. “ It’s after five.” 

They regarded each other solemnly; Ruthie’s lip 
trembled. 

“ Oh, well, it won’t matter,” Peg said. “ What’s one 
rehearsal? Why, Ruthie dear! ” 

Ruthie had sunk down to the ground and was crying 
softly; Peg and Moya watched her silently. 

“ I shouldn’t have forgotten,” she said at last. “ It’s 
my scenes with Nerissa. Kathleen Herbert always gets 
me upset somehow, and Miss Morton said I was to 
go over those especially today.” 

“ Kathleen Herbert makes me tired,” Peg said. 
“ Just because she wanted to play Portia — ” 

“ She did? ” Ruthie asked. “ Oh, I didn’t know. 
I wish they’d let her.” 

“ Oh, well, she’d probably have wanted to play Shy- 
lock then,” Peg said cheerfully. “ Never mind, 
Ruthie.” 

Ruthie sat there, looking across the hills at the bare 
trees dismally. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 


53 

“ Have you got your ‘ Merchant of Venice 5 in your 
bag? ” Moya asked abruptly. 

Ruthie nodded. “ I’m sorry I’m so — silly,” she said. 
“ But—” 

Moya opened the book without answering. “ I’m 
Nerissa,” she announced. “ Scene Two. Go on, 
Ruthie.” 

“ What do you mean? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ Rehearsal’s called to attention,” Moya said sharply. 
“ This is a room in your house at Belmont. Go sit 
on that stump, Portia. Now then — ‘ By my troth, 
Nerissa ’■ — ” 

Ruthie looked up, questioningly. “ Go along,” or- 
dered Moya. 

“ 1 By my troth, Nerissa,’ ” Ruthie began uncer- 
tainly. 

In a few minutes, they were deep in the play, and 
Ruthie forgot that she was miles from King street 
in the Holloway Hills. 


CHAPTER V 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 

O N Wednesday the first dress rehearsal for “ The 
Merchant of Venice ” was called. The girls 
were seated at tables in the huge dressing-room back- 
stage, fastening pointed beards over their chins, tuck- 
ing their long hair beneath wigs. Middy-blouses and 
smocks were jumbled with doublets and satin breeches; 
school books were heaped on a table with gleaming 
swords and daggers. 

“ Ruthie Blake, will you look at Martha! ” Amy 
exclaimed suddenly. 

Ruthie turned and burst into laughter. Martha was 
standing before one of the mirrors, intent on her reflec- 
tion, and quite unconscious of the group of girls who 
were watching her. A ruffled petticoat of rose colored 
taffeta hung to her ankles, and her bare arms and neck 
emerged from a lace trimmed crepe-de-chine chemise. 
But her face was the face of the money-lending Jew; 
a matted gray beard hung over her neck and caught in 
the rosetted ribbons of her chemise; shaggy eyebrows 


54 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 


55 


were glued above her blue eyes — and her long brown 
hair had fallen in a tangle of hairpins about her 
shoulders. She looked up questioningly. 

“ What’s the matter? ” she asked. 

By this time the roomful of girls was laughing; 
Martha turned towards the mirror again and sud- 
denly saw her entire reflection. 

“ I suppose I do look funny,” she admitted. “ But 
how about yourself, Ruthie? ” 

“ Me? ” Ruthie glanced in the mirror in surprise. 
Ann had piled her hair on her head and fastened a 
net and a fillet of pearls over it; she had slipped paste 
rings on her fingers and heavy gilt bracelets over her 
arms. Her blue middy with its crimson tie, and her 
short pleated serge skirt, her heavy brown boots, gave 
a most surprising general effect. 

“You’d be mobbed, Ruthie, if you were seen on 
the street! ” 

“ Well, you’d probably be arrested,” Ruthie re- 
turned, laughing. 

All over the dressing-room, startling incongruities 
appeared. The Prince of Morocco, a dusky gentleman 
in rose-colored satin — and a senior in King Street 
School — was powdering her nose before one of the 
mirrors; a bearded Venetian was busily engaged in 


56 RUTHIE 

sewing a tear in a white shirt-waist. Jessica, the daugh- 
ter of Shylock, was knitting her brows over an algebra 
problem, and Antonio was teaching Launcelot Gobbo a 
dance step. 

“ All the world’s a stage, as I’ve said many times 
in these last weeks,” Ann Bradley remarked, “ and 
wouldn’t a dress rehearsal make a funny play? ” 

“ Almost ready? ” called Miss Morton at the door, 
and the girls turned back hurriedly to their tables. 

Ruthie slipped into her long yellow dress, thrust her 
feet into satin slippers. 

“ You’re lovely,” Amy McBride said. “ Look at 
yourself, Ruthie.” 

Ruthie gazed at her reflection as though she were 
looking at a stranger. It was incredible that the tall 
young woman who stared back from the mirror with 
her own eyes was the Ruthie Blake who had entered the 
room in her school clothes. She looked as grown up 
as any of them, and — 

“ You’re the prettiest thing here,” Martha said enthu- 
siastically. 

Kathleen Herbert, tall and lovely in her clinging 
green robe, joined them just in time to hear Martha’s 
remark. 

“ Do remember, Ruthie,” she said, “ that when 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 


57 

you’re speaking of Bassanio in the first scene, you’re 
supposed to be in love with him. Of course you’re 
only a kid, but try to make your voice as full of 
feeling as you can.” 

“ Yes,” Ruthie said meekly. The hostility between 
them had grown surprisingly, and Ruthie, unused to 
the usual school-girl quarrels, was uncomfortable and 
unhappy in Kathleen’s presence. Alone with Moya 
she could read her lines well, but with Kathleen as 
Nerissa, her voice became a toneless, monotonous sing- 
song. 

“ After all,” Ann Bradley defended her, “ Ruthie 
doesn’t have to be too enthusiastic. You must remem- 
ber, Katie, that she’s only talking to her waiting-maid, 
and she probably has some restraint.” 

Kathleen tossed her head and ignored Ann. 

“ Don’t let her scare you, Ruthie,” said Martha. 
“ You’re doing beautifully. I don’t know anyone who’d 
make a better Portia.” 

Ruthie smiled bravely, but her heart sank. If Kath- 
leen could frighten her so at rehearsals, what would 
happen when they were alone on the stage, confronted 
by a mass of faces, instead of row upon row of empty 
chairs? 

The dress rehearsal went badly; perhaps it was 


58 RUTHIE 

their unaccustomed costumes and their feeling of 
excitement because the actual production was so close 
at hand. Professor Jordan scowled and grumbled, 
and Miss Morton fretted and rapped with her ruler. 
Miss Orcutt, holding the prompt book in her hand, 
was kept busy in the wings. 

Ruthie spoke her lines nervously; Bassanio was still 
halting and uncertain, while Martha Weston tore 
through the part of Shylock as though it were a basket- 
ball game in the gymnasium, and speed was the most 
important factor. Kathleen Herbert was a trifle nerv- 
ous, but she made a charming Nerissa, and received 
more praise than any of the others. 

Saturday morning dawned as numerous Saturdays 
had dawned before. Ruthie was surprised that it did 
not come with a blast of thunder, a conflagration of 
comets, or some other heavenly phenomena. She lay 
late in bed, reading and rereading her lines. In the 
afternoon Moya and Peg appeared at the house and 
stayed for dinner; Ruthie could see that they and 
her mother were trying to divert her thoughts from 
the play. But she smiled faintly at their jokes, lis- 
tened half-heartedly to their chatter. Again Moya 
went through the Portia-and-Nerissa scenes with her 
friend. 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 


59 

“You’re a darling,” Ruthie said. “And, oh, I’m 
so scared.” 

“ I don’t blame you a bit,” Moya answered stoutly. 
“ I’d be terrified.” 

After dinner the three girls walked to the hall to- 
gether, and Moya pressed Ruthie’s hand encourag- 
ingly as they parted at the door of the dressing-room. 

The gaiety of previous occasions was forgotten; the 
girls dressed in silence, their lips compressed. There 
was no laughter at the strange juxtaposition of beards 
and petticoats. From the wings they could hear the 
increasingly loud murmur of the audience; Miss Mor- 
ton fluttered about, talking with them, encouraging 
them, giving final warnings. 

“ If you forget your lines, don’t be upset,” said Miss 
Orcutt. “ I’ll be ready in the wings, and I’ll whisper 
the minute you need me. It’s going to be splendid, I 
know.” 

Ruthie sat, dressed in her yellow gown, her red robe 
for the trial scene placed on a chair beside her, repeat- 
ing her first line with numb lips. “ c By my troth, 
Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world 
— By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of 
this great world — By my troth, Nerissa . . . ’” If 
only she didn’t forget her opening sentence! 


6o 


RUTHIE 


“ Ruthie, for heaven’s sake, don’t get stage-fright! ” 
Kathleen Herbert said. She was pulling at the cord 
of her own dress nervously; her face was pale be- 
neath the rouge. 

“ Oh, be still! ” Ruthie said desperately, and Kath- 
leen burst into tears. Ruthie was instantly penitent, 
and she quieted the older girl as best she could. 

The curtain rose on the first scene; the girls waiting 
in the dressing-room were breathless. 

“ And you embrace the occasion to depart,” rang out 
Antonio’s voice. 

“ Go on in — the water’s fine! ” Amy McBride whis- 
pered to Ann, and with a last glance at the other 
girls, Ann hurried to the wings and stepped on the 
stage. 

Ruthie folded her hands. She glanced about the 
dressing-room vaguely, and caught sight of Kathleen, 
stooping over her table, her head on her arms. She 
hurried to her apprehensively. 

“ What’s the matter, Kathleen? ” 

The girl raised a white face. “ Nothing — just a 
headache. I’ll be all right.” 

Ruthie looked at her uncertainly. “ Can I — can I 


rub it? ” 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 


61 


“ No, thank you.” 

For a moment she hesitated, then she went back to 
her own table, and waited, watching her. 

Miss Morton hurried into the room, and Ruthie 
caught her hand. 

“ Kathleen doesn’t feel well,” she whispered. “ I 
wonder — hadn’t you better speak to her? ” 

The English teacher looked at Ruthie sharply. 

“ I’m afraid I made her nervous, Miss Morton. I 
was awfully cross. And — ” 

Miss Morton crossed to Kathleen’s side; for a mo- 
ment they were engaged in conversation. Miss Morton 
patted her hand and hurried to another girl. Ruthie 
waited. 

The thud that she heard was the curtain falling. 
The teachers and extra girls hurried about, preparing 
the stage for the second scene — a room in Portia’s 
house. Outside in the hall the applause was still rumb- 
ling. She wondered stupidly whether there would be 
any applause at the close of her scene — at least the 
audience would be too kind not to laugh. 

“ All ready? ” Miss Morton asked cheerfully. 

Ruthie nodded and glanced toward Kathleen. “ Miss 
Morton — ” she began. 


62 RUTHIE 

They hurried over to her and stopped aghast. Kath- 
leen had taken off her costume and was in a kimona; 
her cheeks were stained with tears. 

“ I can’t go on, Miss Morton,” she said. “ Hon- 
estly I can’t. I never had such a headache in my 
life.” 

Miss Morton’s forehead drew together in a scowl. 
“ Nonsense,” she said sharply. “ You’ve got to go on. 
Get into your costume quickly. They’re waiting for 
you.” 

“ I can’t.” 

“ Please, Kathleen! ” Ruthie begged. 

“ Oh, Katie,” said Amy, “ run along. It’s just the 
girls outside.” 

Kathleen hid her face on her arm; her shoulders 
shook. “ I c-can’t! ” she sobbed. 

For a moment Miss Morton stood watching her. 
“ Will you go on, Kathleen? ” she asked icily. 

Kathleen shook her head miserably. 

“ Then someone will have to read through the part.” 
She hesitated. “ I can’t think of a soul. Oh, Kath- 
leen — ” She looked at the prostrate girl with min- 
gled pity and contempt. “ Ruthie, what shall we do? ” 

Ruthie shook her head hopelessly; suddenly her 
face brightened. 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 63 

“ I’ll bet Moya could do it,” she said slowly. “ Oh, 
Miss Morton — ” 

“ Moya McMahon? ” Miss Morton said incredu- 
lously. “ But she — she’s such a little scatter-brain, 
Ruthie. She — ” 

Ruthie’s color rose. “ Really she isn’t,” she said. 
“ I — I know she can do it.” At first she had been 
uncertain, but her confidence in her friend was great; 
the teacher’s lack of belief heightened it. “ She knows 
Nerissa’s part perfectly — we’ve rehearsed it together a 
dozen times. Oh, Miss Morton — ” 

At Ruthie’s first suggestion Miss Orcutt had hur- 
ried into the audience; she appeared now with Moya. 

“ Moya, you will?” Ruthie begged. “ You know 
you can! ” 

Moya hesitated while the entire roomful of girls 
held their breath, watching her. “ Sure,” she answered 
cheerfully. “ I’ll try anything once.” 

Miss Morton frowned at her words. “ Moya, can 
you really do it, or will you get out there and act like 
a little goose? ” 

“ I’ll do it,” Moya answered. She had already 
slipped off her dress, and Ruthie was excitedly pulling 
Nerissa’s robe over her head, while Martha Weston 
knelt and unlaced her shoes. Amy McBride stood be- 


64 RUTHIE 

hind her, untying her hair-ribbons. “ I know you all 
think Fm the most undependable girl in the world, 
just because I cut classes and — ” her eyes danced — 
“ slide down banisters and do awful things. But I’d 
do anything for Ruthie — honestly. And she’s going 
to be too good to be spoiled by having someone read 
through Nerissa’s part.” 

Miss Morton looked steadily into Moya’s eyes for 
a moment; then her own eyes fell, and she nodded 
briskly. “ Thank you, Moya,” she said. “ I’ll go out 
and announce the change in the cast.” 

In a few minutes Moya was ready. “ What fun, 
Ruthie! ” she said. “You and me! ” 

Ruthie returned her smile; already her spirits were 
soaring, and the excitement had driven away her nerv- 
ousness. She hugged Moya enthusiastically. “ And 
won’t Peg and Mother be surprised! ” she said. 

“Won’t they, though? And my mother! Ready 
now? ” 

“ All ready! ” Ruthie responded gaily. “ Oh, 
Moya! ” 

Together they fairly danced to the wings, took their 
places on the stage, their eyes shining. 

The curtain rose on the room in Portia’s house. 
Ruthie did not so much as glance at the expanse of 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 65 

staring faces. She looked at Moya, good old Moya — 
no, it was Nerissa, her waiting-maid, her waiting-maid 
and chum, to whom she was going to confide her trou- 
bles. And what a lot of troubles she had! She 
stretched out her arms in a wearied little gesture, and 
in the wings Miss Orcutt and Miss Morton exchanged 
amazed glances. She leaned forward with a charm- 
ing touch of intimacy and confidence in her face. 

“ By my troth, Nerissa,” she said wistfully, and 
Moya leaned forward to hear her friend’s words, “ my 
little body is a-weary of this great world.” 

“ You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were 
in the same abundance as your good fortunes are,” 
Moya responded gently. She seemed to be chiding 
Ruthie for being discontented that she was not like 
other Holloway girls, when she had had such a mar- 
velous life of adventure. 

The scene progressed smoothly, delightfully. Once 
Moya, uncertain of her line, raised her eyes to Miss 
Orcutt, and the teacher gave her the words so swiftly 
that the audience did not notice. Once Ruthie whis- 
pered the beginning of a sentence to her friend, and 
if the people in the hall saw, they showed no sign of 
it. Together the two girls laughed over Ruthie’s de- 
scription of her suitors; at the close of the scene 


66 RUTHIE 

when Portia said, “ Come, Nerissa,” they joined hands 

and went out together. 

“ Ruthie — Ruthie — Ruthie! ” Moya said excitedly. 

“Moya! ” Ruthie answered. 

“ Aren’t we splendid ! ” 

“ We’re magnificent! ” Ruthie said, laughing. 

In the dressing-room the girls crowded about them; 
their gaiety pervaded the room; other girls forgot their 
nervousness in the excitement. 

“ It’s the best thing we’ve ever done,” said Martha 
Weston. 

“ You never did so well, Ruthie,” said Amy. “ Those 
little gestures — how do you know how to do it? ” 

Kathleen Herbert looked up and smiled. “ I’m 
glad I couldn’t go on, Ruthie,” she said. “ I’ve been 
watching from the wings — the other girls dragged me 
out. And you’re lovely. I — I’m sorry I’ve been 
horrid.” 

Amy and Martha looked at each other in surprise. 

“ You haven’t been horrid,” Ruthie said. “ Of 
course I understand, Kathleen.” She held out her 
hand uncertainly, and Kathleen took it. 

Through the trial scene, Portia and Nerissa laughed 
and exchanged amused glances; what fun they were 


PORTIA AND NERISSA 67 

having in deceiving Bassanio and Gratianio; in pun- 
ishing the bearded Shylock, who was acting his part 
a thousand times better than at any of the rehearsals. 

The curtain fell on the last act, and they kissed each 
other delightedly; before they realized, the curtain had 
risen again, and the audience laughed to see them hug- 
ging each other like two little school girls. 

“ Moya, I can’t ever thank you! ” said Miss Morton, 
as they hurried into the wings after their fifteenth 
curtain-call. Holloway Hall had begun, to empty; 
“ The Merchant of Venice ” was over. 

“ It was all Ruthie,” said Moya. “ Wasn’t she splen- 
did? ” 

Miss Morton’s eyes grew misty. “ You two ador- 
able children! ” she said. “ Why didn’t we have sense 
enough to choose two girls who loved each other and 
were really chums for Portia and Nerissa? Not that 
it matters now, of course.” 

Professor Jordan burst into the dressing-room. 

“ I knew you’d become Portia,” he said to Ruthie, 
taking her hand. He held out his other hand to 
Moya. “ But I didn’t realize how perfectly you’d be- 
come Nerissa. Miss McMahon, you were splendid. 
I’m proud of you both.” 


68 RUTH IE 

They smiled together at him. 

“ I’ve known only one other girl who could have 
done so well,” he continued. 

Moya’s eyes danced. “ Rosalind Park, I presume? ” 
she asked mischievously. 

“ Rosalind Park,” he repeated gravely. 

The other girls and teachers in the room wondered 
what in the world could have amused Ruthie and Moya 
and Professor Jordan so much. 


CHAPTER VI 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 
‘ 4 UTHIE, this is the dearest place I’ve ever seen 

AV in my life,” said Moya. “ Who’d ever have 
thought an ordinary yard could be like this? ” 

The three girls stood at Ruthie’s back-door, looking 
out at the garden. The high wooden wall had been 
painted yellow; at the further end was a small plaster 
fountain heaped with the heavy snow that had fallen 
the day before. Three large china ducks with yellow 
bills and feet were waddling in the snow. 

“ Wait till you see it in the spring! ” said Ruthie. 
“ We’re going to have little garden plots and scarlet- 
runner beans climbing all over the walls.” 

“ That’s old Mrs. Marble’s summer house, isn’t it? ” 
Peg asked. 

Moya looked at the small pagoda-like wooden struc- 
ture. It had originally been painted a brilliant green, 
but the sun and rains had faded it to a strangely mys- 
terious color; the bench that ran about the four walls 
had been painted yellow. 

“ Isn’t it darling? Father bought it and had it 
moved over here.” 


69 


70 RUTHIE 

Moya sighed. “ Ruthie, I never saw anything like 
you people! Here we’ve lived in Holloway all our lives 
and might have bought it, and we never even realized 
it was pretty! ” 

“ And here we’ve had back-yards all our lives, and 
it never entered our heads they were good for any- 
thing except to hang washing! ” added Peg. “ By the 
way, where will you hang your washing now? ” 

“ Out here,” said Ruthie. “ I love washing. It bil- 
lows out like great white sails — painters are always do- 
ing pictures of clothes-lines, you know.” 

Moya laughed. “ Ruthie, you’ll convince me that 
the leather factories on Mason street are picturesque, 
yet,” she said. 

“ But they are! At night, with those great blue 
lights, and the tall chimneys against the sky — ” 

.Peg and Moya laughed. “As I’ve said before, my 
dear, you’re impossible! ” said Moya. “ And now let’s 
go in — I’m freezing.” 

They went into the living-room of the Blake house 
together. 

“ After supper I want you to come over to Profes- 
sor Jordan’s with me,” said Ruthie. “ He says that he 
and his wife are at home every Sunday night, and — ” 

“ Ruth Blake! ” Moya said. “ Don’t you know that 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 71 

no one but teachers’ pets ever go to those at-homes? 
Marion Alien and — ” 

Ruthie frowned. “ But I like Professor Jordan,” 
she objected. 

“ So do I. But what’s the use in going over there 
and meeting a lot of teachers? Don’t you see enough 
of ’em during the week? ” 

“ But—” 

“ Honest, Ruthie, it’ll be awfully stupid,” said Peg. 
“ But I promised. You’ve got to come.” 

In the end the three set out together. Professor 
Jordan and his wife lived in an old square house 
across from the school. A maid opened the door, and 
they went in silently. In the long hallway, lighted by 
tall candles, hung a green and red parrot in a cage. 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t ask me if I want a 
cracker! ” he greeted them in a raucous voice. 

They burst into surprised laughter. 

“ Ruthie, you’re forgiven,” Moya said, giggling. 
“ I’d go through anything to hear a bird say that.” 

“ Who do you suppose taught him? ” asked Peg. 
“ Surely Professor Jordan — ” 

A young woman in a blue silk dress came out to 
meet them. “ You’re Ruth Blake — one of you? ” she 
asked, holding out her hand. “ I’m Helen Jordan.” 


72 


RUTH IE 


“ I’m Ruth Blake,” Ruthie said. “ And this is Moya 
McMahon and Peg Adams.” 

They shook hands and put their hats and coats on 
the bench, went together into the living-room. 

“ Good evening, girls,” said a familiar voice, and the 
three looked up in surprise at Miss Morton. Without 
her glasses, in a pretty brown velvet dress instead of 
her shirt-waist and skirt, she looked nothing like the 
Miss Morton of King Street School. 

“ Why, she was almost pretty! ” Peg said afterwards. 

Professor Jordan detached himself from a group of 
people and came towards them. “ Awfully glad you’ve 
come,” he said in his rumbling voice. “ Was afraid 
you’d be scared — us teachers usually manage to make 
a bad impression on girls. What is it, anyway — afraid 
we’ll catechize you and say that children should be seen 
and not heard? ” 

“ I’m not afraid you’ll say that,” Ruthie said, grin- 
ning. 

“ Why not? ” 

“ ’Cause I know you like some children who are 
heard and never seen.” 

His laughter echoed through the room. “ Rosalind 
was a good student,” he said. “ Never gave me any 
trouble at all. Come along over here and sit down — 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 73 

we’re having a heated discussion about The Sugar Plum 
Tree . 33 

They followed him, wondering, to the couch. Mar- 
tha Weston and Amy McBride were there, and to 
Moya’s surprise, two boys from Holloway Academy. 

“ Professor Jordan thinks that the board of teachers 
ought to be removed from The Sugar Plum Tree 33 Miss 
Morton explained. “ He thinks the girls can manage 
alone, but I say they can’t.” 

“ We manage without any teachers,” one of the boys 
broke in. “ Of course Jack Sibley’s a peach of an 
editor, but so’s Miss Weston.” 

The three girls listened silently to the argument. 

“ Just the same, I’d like to see ’em try it,” Professor 
Jordan said. His wife interrupted, coming in with 
a huge tray of ginger-ale and sandwiches. “ Do you 
know Jack Sibley, Ruth? ” 

Ruthie shook her head. “ Who is he? I mean be- 
sides being editor of the Academy magazine? ” 

“ He’s an interesting boy — you’d like him. He lived 
in China for a long time. His father was consul there 
a few years ago, and — ” 

“ Jack Sibley!” Ruthie interrupted. “ Sibley!” 
Her voice grew excited. u Of course I know him! 
When I was — oh, eight or nine years old, I guess, I 


74 RUTHIE 

used to play with him in Pekin. Oh, I’d love to see 

him.” 

“ You’ll probably have a hard time,” said Helen 
Jordan, laughing. “ He’s scared to death of girls for 
some funny reason. He usually comes to see us only 
after he has telephoned to make sure there are none 
here.” 

“ That’s because he has curly hair,” Martha Weston 
explained. “ Girls always say, ‘ Oh, to think of that 
hair being wasted on a boy! ’ ” 

“ He’s an awfully clever kid,” said Amy McBride. 
“ He writes a lot of stuff about China, and — ” 

“ Why don’t you write something for the S. P. T.? ” 
Martha interrupted, turning to Ruthie. 

“ Oh, I — can second-year girls contribute? ” Ruthie 
asked. 

“ Of course. Go ahead, Ruthie.” 

“ Don’t you do it,” said Professor Jordan. “ I’m 
mad with the S. P. T. I don’t think it represents the 
girls so long as it is engineered by the English teach- 
ers.” He looked at Miss Morton, and Ruthie and 
Peg and Moya held their breaths. It had never en- 
tered their heads that teachers disagreed among them- 
selves; always they had thought of them as a group 
of older people who hung together to impose rules 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 75 

— and incidental knowledge — upon the pupils of their 
school. “Til tell you what! Why don’t you girls 
in the second year start a magazine of your own? ” 

“ Us? ” Ruthie asked incredulously. 

“ Yes, you.’’ 

Martha Weston laughed. “ Sounds all right,” she 
said, “but you have to have a lot of experience to 
run a magazine.” 

“ I’ll bet we could do it,” said Moya. “ Why — it’s 
almost an adventure, Ruthie.” 

Ruthie stared at Professor Jordan. 

“ Let’s,” said Peg. 

“ Go to it,” he said, smiling. 

The conversation became heated and excited. The 
girls of The Sugar Plum Tree were amused at the 
idea, but they did not think it possible. It was 
their lack of belief that finally brought Ruthie to her 
decision. 

“ Of course we can! ” she said. “ And we will.” 

“ Good girl,” Professor Jordan approved. 

“ What shall we call it? ” asked Moya. 

“ Let’s call it The Beanstalk,” said Ruthie, with a 
flash of inspiration. “ Because it’s going to grow and 
grow and grow — until it has just as many subscribers 
as the S. P. T” 


RUTHIE 


76 

“ More,” said Moya promptly, and Martha and 
Amy laughed. 

“Well, good luck to you,” Martha said, as she 
rose to go. “ All I’ve got to say is, you don’t know 
what a lot of work you’ve got before you.” 

“ You don’t think we can do it, Martha, do you? ” 
Ruthie asked. 

“ Frankly, no.” From her eighteen years, Martha 
looked down on the fourteen-year-old students. 

“ You wait and see! ” 

Until ten o’clock the three girls and Professor Jor- 
dan and his wife discussed the new magazine. 

“ Now aren’t you glad you came with me? ” Ruthie 
asked triumphantly, as they walked home. “ What an 
adventure we’re going to have! ” 

“ Ruthie, I beg your pardon,” said Moya. “ After 
this, no matter how stupid it sounds, if you’re in 
favor of it, I am too.” 

The three girls worked incessantly. “ Professor Jor- 
dan certainly likes to see us busy,” Moya remarked. 
“ Remember how he made us make up Rosalind’s lost 
lessons? ” 

Peg showed an unexpected and surprising talent in 
the making of posters for the new magazine; before 
two weeks had passed, not only the lower classes, but 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 77 

all of King Street School, knew and were talking about 
the new magazine. Miss Morton, although she doubted 
that the girls would succeed, offered her room for an 
office after school hours, and Ruthie sat at a table 
with Peg and Moya, reading and discussing the manu- 
scripts that poured in. 

“ I guess we’ve got enough for the first number,” 
said Ruthie. “ Some of it is awfully good, too — I love 
Rose’s idea for a column of Mothers’ Sayings — ‘ When 
I was your age, I had only five cents a month and 
was glad of it ’ — ‘ In my day, girls had two dresses; 
one for every day, and one for Sunday.’ ” 

“ Professor Jordan says that the Peerless Press are 
the cheapest printers. How much money have we got, 
Peg? ” 

Peg, as treasurer, had been keeping count of the 
subscriptions. “ Eighty-three dollars and seventy-five 
cents,” she said, looking in her notebook. 

“ Fine.” 

“Then this afternoon, I’ll take the stuff down to 
the printers’. Come with me? ” Ruthie bundled up 
the manuscripts and put on her coat and hat. 

“ I can’t,” Moya said. “ You’ll be surprised, 
Ruthie, but I’m actually going to study! ” 

Peg pressed her hand against her chum’s forehead. 


78 RUTHIE 

“ Doesn’t feel feverish,” she remarked to Ruthie. 
“ How’s her pulse? ” Ruthie asked. 

Moya laughed. “ No, I’m not crazy,” she said. 
“ Rut if we don’t keep up in our lessons, they won’t 
let us have The Beanstalk , you know.” 

“ You’re a dear, Moya,” Ruthie said. “ Can you 
come, Peg? ” 

“ Promised to go shopping with Mother. I’m sorry.” 
So Ruthie hurried alone down Main street, through 
Marlborough Square and across to Ward Place where 
the printers had their shop. In the office she found 
Mr. Bernstein, with whom she had talked over the 
telephone, and who was a friend of Professor Jordan’s. 

He looked over the papers she gave him and smiled. 
“ What type do you want this printed in? ” he asked. 
“ The same as the S. P. T.? ” 

“ Type? ” Ruthie asked. “ What’s that? ” 

He threw back his head and laughed. “ It’s the 
letters,” he explained at last. “ You know you can 
have any shape or size you want.” 

Ruthie frowned. “ We don’t want it in italics, if 
that’s what you mean,” she said doubtfully. 

Mr. Bernstein roared again. “ Miss Blake, do you 
see that big red book? ” he asked, pointing to the 
shelf above his desk. 


79 


JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 

Ruthie nodded. 

“ Well, you look over that while I go in the shop 
for a minute.” 

So Ruthie sat, poring over the pages of letters and 
feeling very young and foolish. The door of the office 
opened and a boy came in. As he took off his cap, she 
saw curly dark hair above a brown face and pleasant 
brown eyes. He opened a manuscript case and took 
out a pile of papers much like her own. Ruthie peered 
rudely over his shoulder as she saw that they were 
marked and criss-crossed with directions. 

“ Oh! ” she said. 

He looked up inquiringly, and she flushed. 

“ Could I — see one of those sheets of paper? ” she 
asked. 

He handed it to her obediently. 

“ Oh dear! ” she said. 

“ What’s the trouble? ” 

“ I didn’t know — You see, we’re starting a maga- 
zine.” Before she realized, she had told him the story 
of The Beanstalk. “ And I don’t know anything about 
getting things ready for the printer. Those directions 
of yours look like Chinese to me — except that if they 
were Chinese I could read them.” 

“ You could? ” He stared at her in surprise. 


8o 


RUTH IE 


“ Well, a little. I lived in China for a long time. 
We — ” 

He laughed excitedly. “ Say, I know who you are,” 
he said. “ We used to play together when we were 
kids. Your father is Harrington Blake, who was work- 
ing on the Yang-Foo Dam — I used to watch them 
building it.” 

“ So did I,” said Ruthie, opening her eyes in amaze- 
ment. “ Why — you’re Jack Sibley! ” 

“ Of course I am.” 

They shook hands, laughing. 

“Will you help me, then? ” Ruthie asked. “I’m 
so mixed up. And — ” 

“ Sure,” he interrupted. “ Have you got lots of time 
— I mean you don’t have to get home early? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Then I’ll take you all over the shop. Mr. Bern- 
stein doesn’t mind — I run in all the time with The 
Toboggan. That’s the Academy magazine, you know.” 
He smiled at her for a moment. “ Gee, I’m glad to 
see you, Ruth! ” 

“And to see you! ” Ruthie laughed delightedly; 
suddenly she folded her hands primly. “ School’s be- 
gun,” she said. “ I’m waiting to be taught.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 

R UTHIE followed Jack Sibley through the door of 
the office into a huge, noisy room. Her first 
impression was of numerous whirring machines, black 
and terrifying. Directly before them, a boy in shirt 
sleeves was feeding clean sheets of white paper into 
a wide jawed machine that tossed them up, drew them 
beneath a black roller, and hurled them out, printed 
pages of a magazine. Near the window a young man 
was punching a keyboard of a towering mass of machin- 
ery, and hot metal rows of letters fell into words and 
sentences on a narrow rack. 

“ That’s the linotype machine,” said Jack. “ Come 
along over and we’ll get Tom to explain it.” 

“All right,” Ruthie said. She felt perfectly cer- 
tain that even though they explained for a month, 
she would never understand. Machinery, and all sim- 
ilar things, were like black magic to her. Although 
her father had told her over and over again why a 
steel battleship floats, and although Ruthie could re- 
81 


82 RUTHIE 

peat the reasons glibly, still, deep in her heart, she 

had no idea why it did not sink. 

Her eyes were round as she followed Jack about, 
listening eagerly to his explanations, watching the men 
at work. He showed her a great table where rows of 
metal letters, raised, like books for the blind, were 
laid together until they made a page, surrounded by 
wooden rules and tied about with string. Ruthie her- 
self rubbed the inky roller over them, pulled off the 
damp sheet of paper that had been blank when she 
placed it there, and that became a printed page. 

“ It’s perfectly wonderful!” she said, smiling at 
Jack delightedly. 

“ Now I’ll show you how to mark your stories for 
the first number of your magazine,” he offered. 
“ What’s it called? ” 

“ The Beanstalk.” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

They sat together at Mr. Bernstein’s desk, and 
worked until the pages were ready. 

“ I’m awfully grateful,” Ruthie said for at least the 
eighteenth time as they walked up the street together. 

“ Silly,” said Jack. “ I’ll help you whenever you 
like.” 

They were silent as they crossed Marlborough Square 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 83 

and turned up Main street. Ruthie was a little shy, 
and Jack, although he already liked Ruthie, was so 
sure that all girls were silly that he did not know 
quite what to say. The stores of Holloway were 
crowded together about the Square and Main street; 
the two moving-picture theaters and the great hall 
where the girls had given “ The Merchant of Venice ” 
were on the outskirts of the business section. Beyond, 
before they came to the houses and gardens, was a 
stretch of marshy land, littered with tin cans and 
ashes. 

“ Isn’t it dirty and ugly? ” Ruthie said, wriggling 
her nose in disgust. “ I should think Holloway would 
be ashamed.” 

“ It’s awful,” Jack agreed. 

Then, as Ruthie looked about at the mud and the 
pools of dirty, half frozen water, an idea came to her — 
an idea that was to make Ruthie Blake and The Bean- 
stalk famous in Holloway. 

“ I’m going to write an article about it in the maga- 
zine,” she announced to Jack. “ I’m going to say that 
Holloway ought to make it into a park for the chil- 
dren. We could have a pond for skating and in the 
summer time have flowers and water lilies. Remem- 
ber that pretty park in Pekin, Jack? ” 


84 RUTHIE 

Jack laughed. “ A lot of good it will do,” he said. 

Ruthie pressed her lips together obstinately. 
“ Maybe it will do a lot of good,” she said. 

“ You’re a funny girl.” 

“ You wait and see.” 

They had reached her house, and they said goodbye 
shyly, but Ruthie was still enthusiastic about her idea. 
She hurried to her room and began writing. She wrote 
about the park in China where she and Jack had 
played, and about the beautiful things that could be 
done with the marshy dump that stretched its ugly 
length between the business and residential sections 
of the city. Then, after she had put it into an en- 
velope and mailed it to the printer, she forgot about 
it completely, because she had so many things to do. 

She forgot to tell Moya and Peg about it, and their 
first sight of the story was at the printer’s when they 
went with her to look at the first printed pages of the 
magazine, before the copies were run off. 

“ Oh, Ruthie, you don’t know what you’re doing! ” 
Moya said. “ Holloway is just obstinate about that 
dump — they always get mad when people — especially 
strangers — say anything about it! ” 

“ You’re going to get into trouble, Miss Blake, with 
that thing,” Mr. Bernstein agreed, stopping for a mo- 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 85 

ment to talk with them. “ The town is pretty sen- 
sitive about the dump, you know.” 

“ They ought to be,” said Ruthie. She returned 
the printer’s gaze steadily, and he laughed. 

“ Well — it won’t do any harm to try,” he admitted. 
“ You’re all so young that maybe they won’t pay any 
attention to you.” 

“Huh! ” said Ruthie. 

The copies of the magazine arrived at the school 
three weeks before Christmas. Everyone in the school 
bought it to see what the second-year girls could do, 
and they found it interesting and amusing. 

“ It’s pretty good, Ruthie,” Martha Weston ad- 
mitted, when the two girls met in the corridor. “ I 
had no idea you little girls could write so well. But 
I shouldn’t advise you to fill it full of stories about 
dumps and things — people don’t want to be preached 
at, you know. It sounds sort of goody-goody. Girls 
aren’t interested in things like that.” 

“ I am,” said Ruthie defiantly. 

Martha laughed. “ Well, you’re an exception,” she 
said. 

“ Maybe,” Ruthie answered. 

Moya and Peg came home with Ruthie; Mrs. Blake 
was having a little party for the three editors of the 


86 RUTHIE 

new magazine. She had promised not to look at it 

until they were all together, and they were laughing and 

excited. 

They hurried into the house and shook the snow 
from their clothes, sat down on the floor before the 
living-room fire to warm their cold hands before dinner. 

“ Everyone at school seems to like T he Beanstalk ” 
Moya said lazily, stretching out her arms, and watch- 
ing the red flames fly up the chimney. 

“ Yes — and oh, isn’t it nice, Moya! ” 

“ Of course it is. I’m awfully glad you came to 
Holloway, Ruthie. Just think of the fun we’ve 
had! ” 

“ Speaking of fun,” said Peg suddenly, “ what’s hap- 
pened to the Adventurers’ Club? We’ve had just one 
adventure, and now poor Rosalind is dead and buried.” 

“ But her soul goes marching on! ” sang Moya. 
“ You’re it, Peg.” 

“ I’m it? I’m what? ” Peg asked, and Ruthie gig- 
gled. 

“ You’re the Chief Adventurer in the next adven- 
ture,” Moya explained. 

“ Oh, but I didn’t mean that,” Peg protested. “ I 
can’t think of a thing.” 

Ruthie laughed. “ You’ve got to just the same,” she 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 87 

said. “ Second adventure — how much time will we 
give her to plan it, Moya? ” 

“ Oh — till Christmas. That’s three weeks, Peggy — 
you ought to be able to think of ’most anything in three 
weeks.” 

Peg shook her head sadly. “ It’s such awful cold 
weather that I think it’s frozen my brain,” she said 
mournfully. “ But I’ll try.” 

“ You’ll try! ” Moya scoffed. “ You’ve got to, Peg. 
And then Ruthie’ll have her adventure and — ” 

“ And then you’ll have to plan another,” Peg and 
Ruthie said together. They were much more confident 
of the powers of Moya’s imagination than of their own. 

Mrs. Blake hurried into the room and interrupted 
them. “ Have you three monkeys been up to some- 
thing? ” she demanded. 

Moya’s eyes instantly became as innocent and un- 
clouded as a baby’s; she looked like a girl who had 
never done anything mischievous in her life. She had 
not been “ up to something ” so far as she knew, but 
people were always misunderstanding her. She had 
turned all the pictures that hung in the French room 
with their faces toward the wall before she left the 
school, and she had bombarded a fat policeman with 
snowballs that afternoon on their way home, but that 


88 RUTHIE 

was nothing important. Peg shook her head and 

Ruthie looked up in surprise. 

“ No, Mother,” she said. “ Why? ” 

Mrs. Blake laughed. “ A reporter from the Hollo- 
way News just telephoned and asked if you would be 
at home this evening. I thought he must want to inter- 
view your father, but he said that he wanted you 
and also Miss McMahon and Miss Adams. He 
wouldn’t say anything else, and he’s coming up after 
supper.” 

“ Me? ” said Ruthie. 

“ Us? ” Peg and Moya echoed. 

“ Well, we’ll have to wait and see, then.” 

Mr. Blake came in and said hello to the girls. 
“ Haven’t been setting fire to the school or starting a 
revolution or anything, have you, Moya? ” he asked. 

Moya shook her head. “ I’m just as good as I can 
be,” she said. 

“Ah! ” Mr. Blake said, smiling at her. “I won- 
der how good that is? ” 

“ I’m not telling.” 

They laughed and went into the dining-room to- 
gether. 

“ I can’t think what a reporter can want with us,” 
Ruthie said suddenly, and Moya began to giggle. 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 89 

“ I’ll bet Moya knows,” Mr. Blake accused her. 

“ No, really I don’t,” Moya said. She turned to 
Peg, her eyes dancing. “ The reporter made me think 
of it,” she said. “ Remember the pink-eye, Peggy? ” 
Peg choked over the glass of water she was drinking. 
“ What a scolding we got! ” she said. 

“ The pink-eye? ” Ruthie asked. “ Did you have it? 
And why did you get scolded? ” 

“ We almost had it,” Moya said, and Peg began 
to laugh again. 

“ Everyone thought we had! ” she giggled. 

Ruthie waited impatiently. 

“ You see we were going to Peg’s for Christmas vaca- 
tion — out at the farmhouse,” Moya explained finally. 
“ There were six of us girls. And about three weeks 
before vacation began, we got awfully tired of school, 
and began to think how wonderful it would be if we 
could get sick and go to the country right away.” 

“ So we thought over all the diseases we could get,” 
Peg broke in. “ Mumps — we thought of stuffing cotton 
in our cheeks — scarlet fever, pneumonia — everything. 
But we wanted a nice comfortable disease, just enough 
to let us out of school. So Moya — ” 

“ So I thought of the pink-eye,” Moya said. “ It’s 
terribly catching, you know, and I knew they’d be 


RUTHIE 


90 

afraid of an epidemic. And with six of us sick! I 
tried to think of everything that would make our eyes 
red, and then one day Mr. Adams got a piece of to- 
bacco in his eye, and that gave us our idea. We took 
some of his tobacco, and made it into little bags and 
wet them, and — ” 

“ And then daubed it in our eyes! ” said Peg. 

Ruthie laughed, and Mrs. Blake looked at her hus- 
band and shook her head. “Crazy children! ” she 
said. “ I should think you’d have ruined your eye- 
sight.” 

“ Well, it’s a wonder we didn’t,” said Peg. “ But 
it didn’t seem to hurt us.” 

“ We came to school — all six of us — with our eyes 
all pink,” Moya continued. “ And then I went to an 
oculist — ” 

“ The very best in Holloway,” said Peg. 

“ And he looked at my eyes and shook his whiskers 
and said, c My girl, what you have is pink-eye! ’ Of 
course I looked terribly surprised — I was, a little, be- 
cause I thought maybe he could tell that we were 
only pretending. And then he said that I mustn’t use 
my eyes for three weeks, and — ” 

“ And Moya said, ‘ Oh, do you mean I can’t even 


THE DREADFUL DUMP 91 

study? ’ in the most broken-hearted voice! ” inter- 
rupted Peg. 

“ And so I said that if I really couldn’t study, he’d 
better write a letter explaining that to my teacher, and 
he did. Then we all did the same thing, and got out 
of school almost three weeks early.” 

“ But that’s not the worst,” said Peg, as Ruthie 
laughed. “ While we were away the reporter for the 
News found out, and wrote a story about us with our 
names. And it was printed in newspapers all over the 
country — they thought it was awfully funny.” 

“ And we were scared when we got back that we’d 
be expelled or something,” Moya said. “ But they 
didn’t say a word — just looked at us pityingly.” 

“ More to be pitied than scorned, I imagine,” said 
Mrs. Blake. “ You crazy children! ” 

“ But we were very young,” Peg apologized. “ That 
was three years ago. We wouldn’t do anything like 
that now.” 

“ I should hope not,” said Mrs. Blake, looking at 
Moya’s dancing eyes doubtfully. “ But I’d like to 
know just what you have done.” 

The reporter from the News rang the bell as they 
were finishing dinner. 


92 


RUTHIE 


“ Moya, have you honestly done something? ” 
Ruthie whispered. 

“ Honestly, no,” Moya answered. “ Have you, 
Peggy? ” 

“ Not a thing. I’ve been awfully good.” 

“ Maybe they’re going to interview us because we’ve 
been so good and they want to know what’s the mat- 
ter,” Moya suggested, laughing. 

They hurried into the living-room, and a tall young 
man came towards them. Ruthie’s heart thumped ex- 
citedly. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HOLLOWAY PARK 

4 4 OU three girls are the editors of this maga- 
-*■ zine 7 aren’t you? ” the reporter asked, and 
they saw for the first time that he was carrying a 
copy of The Beanstalk in his hands. 

“ Yes,” said Ruthie. 

“ It’s an unusual thing, of course, for second-year 
girls to start a magazine. It’s really very interesting, 
Miss Blake.” 

“ I’m glad,” Ruthie said. 

“ But the real reason I want to talk with you” — 
he paused and the three girls and Mr. and Mrs. Blake 
waited excitedly — “ is about this article of yours — The 
Dreadful Dump , you’ve called it, haven’t you? ” 

“ Yes,” Ruthie admitted faintly, and her mother 
turned to the story quickly in the magazine she was 
holding, and began to read. Mr. Blake looked over 
her shoulder, and Ruthie watched them to see if they 
disapproved, but their faces did not change in expres- 
sion. 

“ What would you do with the dump if you had 
money to fix it over? ” asked the reporter. 


93 


94 RUTHIE 

Ruthie’s face brightened with interest, as she told 
him the things she would do. “ The ground isn’t too 
frozen now to dig out a bigger pool,” she explained, 
“ and the city could flood it to make a pond for skat- 
ing. It would be much safer than Holloway Lake 
because it wouldn’t be so deep.” 

“Ah! ” said the reporter and exchanged glances 
with Mrs. Blake. 

“ And they could heap up the dirt they dug from the 
pond on the little hill and make a real toboggan slide,” 
Ruthie continued. 

“ And in the summer — ? ” suggested the reporter. 

Ruthie told about the swans she would buy for the 
pond; about the flowers ai I bushes. 

The reporter grunted again. “ How did you hap- 
pen to think of all this? ” he asked. 

“ I don’t know exactly,” she said. “ I was coming 
up from the printer’s with Jack Sibley, and we passed 
by the dump. I’d been thinking about China — you 
see, I used to know him there. And it just made me 
think of a park where we used to play.” 

“ Did he suggest it? ” 

“ No — he said I was silly to write anything about 
it.” N 

“ Thank you for telling me all this.” He got up, 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


95 

and Mr. Blake came towards him; for a few minutes 
the two men stood talking in the doorway. 

“ It wasn’t mischief, was it, Mother? ” asked Ruthie, 
and Mrs. Blake hugged her. 

“ No, darling,” she said. 

In the morning the Holloway News appeared with 
a long story about “ The Dreadful Dump ”. Mr. Blake 
read it at breakfast and leaned over and pinched 
Ruthie ’s cheek. 

“ I think our daughter has started something,” he 
said to his wife. “ An older person couldn’t seem 
to make any impression on the city — they’ve said they 
couldn’t afford to clean out the place. But when the 
children — ” 

The reporter from the Holloway evening paper was 
at the house when Ruthie arrived home from school, 
and he talked with her also. The story that evening 
was headed “ Out of the Mouths of Babes Cometh 
Truth,” and Ruthie scowled. 

“ As if I was a babe! ” she said indignantly. 

“ Never mind, Ruthie,” her father comforted. 

She did not feel like a “ babe ” when an elderly 
gentleman stopped her on her way to school the next 
day. 

“ Are you Ruth Blake? ” he asked. 


RUTHIE 


96 

“ Yes.” 

“ 1 should think you’d be ashamed to admit it,” he 
returned, and she stared at him in surprise. “ You’re 
a stranger to Holloway, and here you come along, an 
impertinent little minx, criticizing the city and making 
a great hullabaloo.” 

Ruthie flushed. “ Well, do you like the dump? ” she 
asked. 

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 
“ Holloway has managed to grow without any inter- 
ference from children so far,” he said. “ Perhaps 
you’re not aware that we have a mayor and a board 
of aldermen to look out for the affairs of the town? ” 

“ Are you an alderman? ” Ruthie asked, with sud- 
den conviction that he was. 

He looked at her sharply. “You needn’t be im- 
pertinent,” he said gruffly. 

“Well, if you are, I should think you’d want to 
make Holloway just as beautiful as you can,” she 
said. 

He grunted and walked up the street indignantly; 
Ruthie looked after him thoughtfully. 

“I guess I have started something,” she said to 
herself. She was half frightened and wholly excited 
over it all. 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


97 


When she told Moya and Peg about her encounter, 
they giggled delightedly. 

“ What was he like, Ruthie? ” Moya demanded. 
“ Did he have funny side whiskers that look rusty? ” 

Ruthie nodded. “ And a scar across one cheek.” 

Moya laughed. “ That’s Alderman Evers,” she 
said. “ He’s an awful old grouch, Ruthie. Oh, it’s 
awfully funny.” 

“ He can’t arrest Ruthie or anything, can he? ” Peg 
asked anxiously. 

“ Of course not,” Moya replied. “ Oh, Ruthie, don’t 
you feel important? ” 

When she returned home from school, a man was 
waiting to see her. Her mother and father were both 
away, and she led him into the living-room. He was a 
dark, fat man, with large hairy hands that he rubbed 
together, and a funny smile that seemed to slip across 
his face. 

“ My name is Wentworth,” he said. “ I don’t know 
if you’ve heard of me or not. I’m the owner of the 
dump you’ve been talking about.” 

u Oh.” Ruthie looked up at him anxiously. 

“ I think your plan of having the city transform 
the dump to a park is excellent — most excellent,” he 
said. 


98 


RUTHIE 


“ I’m so glad,” Ruthie said, relieved. 

“ Yes, most excellent,” he repeated. “ Of course 
it’s valuable land, you know.” 

“ It is? ” Ruthie asked doubtfully. 

“ Of course it is — right on the outskirts of the 
business section. A splendid site for stores.” 

“ But there’s a spring, isn’t there? ” asked Ruthie. 
“ I shouldn’t think it could be used for anything but 
a park because of that.” 

Wentworth frowned. “ Miss Blake, you know a 
great deal for such a young person,” he said. “ How- 
ever, the spring could be filled up.” 

“ Are you sure? ” 

He did not answer her, but he leaned forward. 
“ Miss Blake, I want to talk business with you,” he 
said. “ But for various reasons, it will have to be 
a secret between you and me.” 

“All right.” 

“ You’ll promise not to mention this? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ It’s a bargain, then. Miss Blake, if you will draw 
up a petition asking the city to buy the land, and have 
it signed by the girls in your school, I will present a 
beautiful fountain to the city in return.” 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


.99 

“ Why, how perfectly lovely! ” Ruthie said. “ But 
why is it a secret? ” / 

“ Business reasons. How soon can you get the peti- 
tion ready, Miss Blake? ” 

“ Why, in a day or two,” Ruthie answered, 

“ Fine.” 

After he had gone, she leaned back in her chair 
dreamily. A fountain! And it was in her power to 
get it for the park! She drew up the petition that 
evening, and the next day at school she and Peg and 
Moya collected the signatures. In two days the peti- 
tion was ready, and she bore it triumphantly to Mr. 
Wentworth’s office. 

“ Good,” he said, taking it from her. “ Now as soon 
as the city decides to buy, I shall send you designs and 
let you help me select the fountain.” 

“ You’re awfully nice,” Ruthie said, smiling grate- 
fully. “ How much will the land cost? ” 

Mr. Wentworth’s eyes grew narrow as he watched 
her. “ Three thousand dollars,” he said quietly. 

“ Three thousand dollars! ” she repeated. “ Three 
thous — ” 

“ Why, yes.” He was still watching her closely, 
holding the petition firmly in his hand. 


IOO 


RUTHIE 


“ But Father says it isn’t worth more than five or 
six hundred! ” she said. 

“Your father is mistaken,” Mr. Wentworth an- 
swered. “ After all, he is a stranger to Holloway, you 
know — ” 

“ But he’s an engineer.” 

“ Even engineers can make mistakes.” 

“ But — but Father said only last night that the land 
isn’t good for anything except a park. He says the 
water there comes from the Holloway River and can’t 
be drained off.” 

“ Well, I’m going to sell it for a park, so that doesn’t 
matter.” 

“ But the city won’t pay three thousand dollars! ” 

Wentworth smiled. “ Normally — no. But with all 
these school children asking the city to buy — ” He 
paused and looked at her. 

“Oh! ” Ruthie said. “Oh, that isn’t fair of you, 
Mr. Wentworth. I didn’t know when I got those 
names — ” 

“ But you got them. And I have them. And I as- 
sure you, I’ll give the city a very lovely fountain, Miss 
Blake.” 

Ruthie looked at him steadily. “ I don’t think it’s 
honest,” she said slowly. 


HOLLOWAY PARK 101 

“ Do you mean to say you think I am dishonest? ” 

“ I — I didn’t say that.’’ % 

“ But you do? ” 

Ruthie flushed. “ I’m not sure,” she admitted. “ It 
doesn’t seem — ” 

He laughed. “ Really now, I think you owe it 
to the city to persuade them to buy the land,” he 
said. 

“ It’s very much to your advantage, isn’t it? ” 
Ruthie asked sharply. 

“ To yours as well.” 

Ruthie considered. “ Maybe. But I’m afraid I 
can’t help you any more, Mr. Wentworth.” 

“ I don’t need you any more. I have your peti- 
tion.” 

Ruthie hurried home, indignant. She saw now that 
Wentworth had used her interest to his own dishonest 
ends. It^ was quite clear that he planned to make 
money at the expense of the city, that he had added 
several thousand dollars to his price merely because 
he thought the petition would force the city to buy. 
And she would have to puzzle it out herself ; she could 
not lay the affair before her father because of her 
promise. For a moment she was tempted to break her 
word; after all, what was her word to a man who was 


102 RUTHIE 

obviously dishonest? But in the end she decided to 

fight the thing out herself. 

The petition was published, and as the days went 
by the newspapers were filled with letters from promi- 
nent Holloway citizens; some people were opposed 
to the buying of the land because they said that a new 
park would increase their taxes. But most of the 
Holloway people were in favor of the new park, and 
were grateful to Ruthie for putting it before them 
and for drawing up the petition. As a result of all 
the talk, so many people subscribed to The Beanstalk 
that Peg had to buy a new notebook to keep their 
names. The price of the land was not mentioned in 
the newspapers, and Ruthie waited anxiously. 

At the end of three weeks’ discussion, the board of 
aldermen voted in favor of the park, and on the day 
that Mr. Wentworth announced that he would sell 
the land for three thousand dollars, the newspapers 
were filled with the story. It was out of the question, 
the board of aldermen announced, to pay such an 
absurd price. The park would have to be set aside. 

Ruthie pressed her lips together firmly. That eve- 
ning after dinner she sat down on the floor at her 
father’s feet and waited until he had finished reading 
the papers. 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


103 

“ Daddy, will you do something for me? ” she asked. 

“ What is it, Ruthie? ” 

“ First of all, you’ve got to promise not to ask me 
any questions — it’s a matter of honor, Daddy.” 

He laughed and promised. 

“ I want you to send some of your men to the dump 
and find out exactly how much that land is worth. I 
want a written report.” 

Mr. Blake grunted and looked at her sharply. 

“ And then I want you to find out for me how much 
land in Holloway Mr. Wentworth owns, and in particu- 
lar, how much land he is trying to sell — I mean any 
land that people are considering buying right now.” 

Mr. Blake smiled slowly. “ Ruthie Blake, I won’t 
ask any questions,” he said. “ But I want to say two 
things. One is that I have an idea that you’re an 
extremely clever young business woman, and the other 
is that I’m perfectly sure Holloway is going to have 
that park.” 

Ruthie laughed. “ You’re a dear, Daddy,” she said. 
“ You’ll do it for me? ” 

“ Right away.” 

On Saturday morning, Ruthie put on her hat and 
coat and walked downtown to the building where Mr. 
Wentworth had his office. 


104 


RUTHIE 


“ Well, even the petition didn’t make the city pay 
your price, did it? ” she greeted him. 

“ The city will buy the land eventually, though,” 
he rejoined. “ And it will be your petition that makes 
them.” He no longer treated her like a little girl; 
Ruthie could see that he was wondering anxiously 
why she had come. 

“ You’re half right,” she said, sitting down in the 
chair across from him. “ The city will buy the land 
— but it won’t be because of my petition.” 

“ What, then? ” he asked. 

Ruthie drew a long breath. “ Mr. Wentworth,” she 
said, leaning forward, “ I have kept my promise to 
you. I haven’t mentioned the fountain to anyone. 
But I also had my father look over the land. He prom- 
ised to ask no questions, but to give me a report of 
the value. His engineers say that it is worth just 
about four hundred dollars — I have a copy of their 
report.” 

Wentworth smiled. “ Ah, Miss Blake,” he said, 
“ but it is worth more than that to me. You are very 
clever, but you haven’t considered the fact that I may 
have a special fondness for that piece of land. It is 
perfectly legal for me to ask whatever I like, you 
know.” 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


105 


Ruthie smiled, too, but her heart was pounding. “ I 
know that, Mr. Wentworth,” she answered quietly. “ I 
know also that at present you are trying to sell five 
different lots of land to five different men in Hollo- 
way.” 

He looked at her and grunted. 

“ If you are going to insist on asking three thousand 
dollars for the dump — in fact, if you won’t sell it for 
four hundred dollars, I am going to them and talk 
about you. I’m going to say that probably you are 
overcharging them, too. I’m going to say all sorts 
of things.” 

Wentworth banged his fist upon the desk so that a 
pen fell off the rack and clattered to the floor. “ I 
suppose you realize that what you are suggesting is 
blackmail! ” he said. “ And that you can be arrested 
for it.” 

Ruthie drew a long breath. “ Yes, I know that,” 
she said finally. “ But do you know that what 
you suggested to me at my house was graft, 
graft against the city, and that you can be arrested 
for it?” 

He looked at her steadily. “ But you promised — ” 

“ And I’ll do a thing I’ve never done in my life, 
Mr. Wentworth. If you won’t do what I suggest — 


106 RUTHIE 

and you won’t lose any money by doing it, you know 

— I shall break my promise.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. Went- 
worth dropped his eyes and Ruthie knew that she had 
won. 

“ You’ll telephone the board of aldermen that you 
will sell for four hundred dollars, won’t you? ” she 
asked sweetly. 

He looked at her without answering. He was a 
business man, a man who had been buying and selling 
for twenty years, and sitting across his desk was a 
small, pretty, fourteen-year-old girl, her open brown 
coat showing a white middy-blouse with a yellow tie. 
For several seconds he looked at her, then realizing 
that he was beaten, he reached for the telephone. 

Ruthie waited until she heard him say, “ I’ve 
changed my mind about that, Evers. I’ve had the 
land surveyed and I’ve discovered that I’m mistaken 
in my valuation. I’ll sell for — ” he looked at Ruthie 
— “ for four hundred dollars ... Yup . . . All 
right, whenever you’re ready . . . Goodbye.” 

“ Thank you,” Ruthie said quietly. 

“ You needn’t thank me,” he said. “ I didn’t do it 
to please you, you know.” 

“ Why don’t you do something to please me, then? ” 


HOLLOWAY PARK 


107 

she asked mischievously. “ Why don’t you present 
the city with a fountain? You said yourself that it 
would be a nice thing to do, and it could easily be 
done for five hundred dollars.” 

She grinned, as he stared at her. 

“ Well, of all the impertinence — ! ” he began, and 
then suddenly he laughed. “ I’m — I don’t know but 
what I will do that very thing! ” he said. “ I’ll be 
out five hundred dollars of course — ” 

“ Only one hundred,” Ruthie answered. “ You’d 
never have sold that land if it hadn’t been for the 
park.” 

“ One hundred, then. But it would do me a lot of 
good in a business way, and — ” 

Ruthie’s eyes shone. “ You’re very kind,” she said. 
“ I’ll drop in at the city-hall and tell them about it.” 

He stared at her again, and then roared with laugh- 
ter. “ Of all the fresh young kids! ” he said. 

“ And I don’t break my promises,” she added. “ You 
may feel sure of that. Goodbye, Mr. Wentworth.” 
She shook his hand and hurried excitedly out of the 
building. 

Her father was in the living-room when she arrived 
at home, and she rushed up to him and hugged him. 

“ Wentworth is selling for four hundred dollars 


108 RUTHIE 

and he’s going to present a five hundred dollar fountain 

to the city! ” she said. 

“ What! ” 

“ Yes. Thank you for helping me, Daddy.” 

Mr. Blake held his daughter off at arm’s length. 
“ Ruth Blake, did you hypnotize that man? ” he asked. 

Ruthie giggled. “ No. But I can’t tell what I did. 
Only it worked, Daddy, it worked! ” 

Mr. Blake thought for a moment. “ Do you know 
that he’s one of the sharpest men in Holloway to deal 
with? ” he demanded. 

“ I’ve found that out,” his daughter answered de- 
murely. “ But he has telephoned to the board of 
aldermen — he’s probably signed the deed or whatever 
it is by now — and I told them about the fountain on 
my way home.” 

Her father laughed. “ Ruthie, I’m proud of you,” 
he said. “ But oh, how I wish I could ask how you 
did it.” 

“ I wish I could tell you, Daddy,” she answered. 
“ Oh, I do wish I could tell you! ” 

Mr. Blake was proud of his daughter then, but he 
was still more proud when she received a letter from 
the mayor of Holloway. He said that since she was 
responsible for the new park, he wanted her to take 


HOLLOWAY PARK 109 

part in the exercises and dig the first shovelful of 
earth from the dump. 

“It’s like laying a cornerstone! ” Moya said excit- 
edly. 

On Saturday, they all went to the marsh together, 
and Ruthie stood beside Mayor Prentiss, while Moya 
and Peg beamed with pride. Ruthie’s cheeks were 
rosy and her eyes bright with excitement; her brown 
hair blew in the wind from beneath a little squirrel 
cap, and she wore the new squirrel coat that her father 
had given her. She smiled up at the mayor as she 
took the shovel and pressed it into the hard earth, 
tossed up the first pieces of clay and ashes. 

Holloway Park was born — and the success of The 
Beanstalk was assured. Afterwards, when Ruthie and 
Moya and Peg were promoted from grade to grade 
of King Street School, until finally they were in the 
last class, and on the staff of The Sugar Plum Tree , 
and still later when they were together in college, the 
first and second-year girls were still proud in the pos- 
session of a magazine that was entirely their own. 

The Beanstalk , like the stalk in Jack’s garden of the 
fairy-tale, grew and grew until it seemed to have no 
end. 


CHAPTER IX 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 

T HE week before Christmas was a confusion of 
examinations and lessons at school, a frantic 
hurry with the last proofs of the second number of 
The Beanstalk , a jumble of sewing and shopping. The 
large suitcase in Ruthie’s room was bulging with Christ- 
mas presents; suspicious looking bundles were smug- 
gled into the house by her mother and father; an air 
of excitement hung over all of Holloway. Bursting 
into Moya’s house, Ruthie would hear a scream and a 
frantic “ Oh, wait a minute, Ruthie! ” and she would 
finally enter to find Moya sitting doing nothing, and 
looking as though she had just swallowed a canary, 
while the floor was littered with bits of red and green 
ribbon, and crumpled paper. 

The Blakes and Moya and Mrs. McMahon — Moya’s 
father was dead — were going out to the count ry to 
spend Christmas at Peg’s. Peg was excused from 
school a week before Christmas, but her two chums 
were so busy with their own preparations that they 
hardly missed her. And in the general excitement they 
no 


PEG’S ADVENTURE in 

had quite forgotten that the time for her adventure 
had arrived. Christmas itself was too thrilling. 

The holiday came on Saturday, and on Thursday 
afternoon Moya and her mother climbed into the back 
of the Blake automobile with Ruthie and Mrs. Blake, 
while Harrington Blake sat beside the chauffeur. The 
Adams farmhouse was thirty miles outside of Hollo- 
way in a sparsely settled bit of country, and they 
sat, muffled in furs and robes, while the car hurried 
along the road between high snow-drifts, pushed be- 
yond the city limits and on to a lonely road cut be- 
tween thick woods. 

It was evening when the car drew up at the drive- 
way; the lights from the house cast yellow streaks 
across the snow, and as Peg threw open the door, they 
saw the red glow of a wood fire in the living-room. 
Peg had made good use of her time. Each window 
framed a holly wreath, tied with a scarlet bow; knots 
of mistletoe hung over every doorway, holly and ever- 
green peeked from behind mirrors and pictures, hung 
from chandeliers and dripped from the tops of cup- 
boards and secretaries. 

They hurried into the living-room, and sat down 
before the fire, leaning close to the flames to warm 
their cold hands. 


1 12 


RUTH IE 


“ My, I’m glad you’re here! ” Peg said. “ Mother 
and Father and I have been working every minute. 
They shipped the mistletoe down from Holloway, but 
I’ve picked every bit of holly and evergreen myself, 
and I’ve made wreaths until my fingers look as though 
I’d been under shell fire! ” 

“ Well, it’s worth it,” Ruthie said. “ Oh, Peg, I 
can’t wait for Saturday.” 

But there were many things to do in the one day 
that intervened. The girls stayed in their rooms, 
tying packages with bright ribbons, completing their 
final oewing on the presents they were making. Ruthie 
had finished the last of the handkerchiefs she was 
hem-stitching for her mother and had just run the 
silver ribbon through the top of the dancing slipper 
bag she was making Moya, when there was a knock 
on her locked door. 

“ Who’s there? ” she called. 

“ Us! ” 

“ Wait a minute! ” She hid the bag hurriedly, and 
looked about to see if the box holding the little leather 
manicure set she had bought for Peg was in sight; 
then she opened the door. 

Moya threw herself on the bed, and Peg sank into 
an armchair. 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


113 

“ My, I’m tired! ” said Moya. “ I have all my pres- 
ents tied up, and — ” 

“ Mother says we’re to put them all in the living- 
room closet,” Peg interrupted, “ so Santa Claus can 
get them and heap them around the tree.” 

“ No peeking allowed! ” Moya warned. 

“ I hope you understand that,” Ruthie said severely. 
“ I trust Peg, but I think we’d better put a guard 
over you! ” 

“ What’s this lump under the pillow? ” Moya asked 
mischievously, and Ruthie darted forward and caught 
her hands. 

“ No fair, now, Moya! ” 

“ I won’t.” Moya patted the pillow suspiciously. 
“ I’m sure it’s a diamond necklace for me.” 

“ For you? ” Ruthie echoed. “ Why, Moya, you 
don’t think anyone is going to give you anything, do 
you? You haven’t been a good little girl a bit and 
Santa Claus told me himself that he hadn’t a blessed 
thing for you! ” 

Moya snorted. “ Then let me see what’s under the 
pillow! ” 

Ruthie seized her hands and dragged her from 
the bed. “ You run along and play like a good little 
girl,” she said, and pushed her from the room. “ I’ll 


RUTHIE 


114 

be downstairs soon.” She finished tying up her pres- 
ents, and in a few minutes came into the living-room 
with her suitcase, which she placed in the overflowing 
closet. 

“ I shan’t sleep all night! ” Moya said. “ And I’m 
going to get up early and open all the presents for 
everyone and keep the things I like! ” 

“ Huh ! ” said Ruthie. It was she who awoke first 
in the morning, and she hurried into Peg’s room and 
then to Moya’s to lead them downstairs. They sat 
before the fireplace and emptied their stockings in 
their laps; candy, nuts, pop-corn, a pearl ring for 
each of them — they suspected Mrs. Adams there: a 
five-dollar gold-piece — they thought of Mr. Blake ; tiny 
toys, little things of every sort. They wailed, gig- 
gling, for their parents, and when Mr. Blake trium- 
phantly pulled a beautifully wrapped package from his 
sock and found a huge shining onion, he looked at 
his daughter suspiciously. 

“ Santa’s evidently going in for farming,” was all 
that he said. “ This is probably the only onion in 
captivity that was grown north of the Arctic Circle.” 

After breakfast, the folding doors that led to the 
smaller of the two living-rooms were unlocked, and 
they gasped at the tall shimmering tree, wound and 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 115 

festooned with golden ropes, dripping with silver rain, 
studded with gleaming balls of red and green and 
yellow and blue. They were speechless when Mr. 
Adams, who had been chosen for Santa Claus, called 
out their names again and again, until they each sat 
surrounded by packages. 

“ Now you can open them! ” said Mrs. Adams. 

They untied the ribbons excitedly, and the room 
echoed with their squeals. 

“ Oh, Daddy — those white furs ! ” screamed Ruthie, 
deserting her other presents almost to strangle him 
in a hug. 

“ That pink evening dress that was in Miss May’s 
window! Mother! ” Peg nearly cried with delight. 

“A set of Dickens! ” This from Moya, who was 
opening book after book with feverish haste. 

“ I’ve never had such a gorgeous Christmas in my 
life! ” Ruthie said. Dinner was over, and they were 
again in the living-room. “ I think I have everything 
in the world that I want — was there ever anything so 
beautiful as my wrist watch? ” 

“ Can’t compare with my rosewood desk,” said 
Peg. 

“ Both of those trifles fade into oblivion before my 
silver toilet set! ” Moya said loftily. 


n6 RUTHIE 

They laughed, and leaned back lazily, watching the 
fire. 

“ I’ve eaten so much turkey that I never expect to 
move again! ” Moya wailed. 

“ It was the plum pudding that ruined me,” said 
Ruthie sadly. “ All that is left for me, I’m afraid, is 
to get a position in a circus as the fat lady — Oh, I 
know I weigh three times what I used to! ” 

The rest of the day went by lazily; they were too 
satisfied and happy to have energy for anything more 
violent than looking again at their presents, and sit- 
ting before the fire, munching nuts and fruit, and 
talking. 

But the next day was clear and cold, and the sun 
turned the snow-drifts to dazzling white beneath the 
blue sky. 

“ The whole world looks like a frosted cake,” said 
Ruthie. “ What shall we do? ” 

Moya laughed suddenly. “ What shall we do? ” she 
repeated. “ Why, that’s perfectly simple — I wonder 
that we hadn’t thought of it before! It’s time — past 
time, in fact, for Peg’s adventure! ” She turned to 
Peg triumphantly. 

But Peg was ready. “ I was wondering when you’d 
remember that!” she said. “ I’m ready whenever 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


you are — the second adventure of the club is thor- 
oughly planned.” 

“ We’re ready now! ” Ruthie said excitedly. 

“ All right.” Peg looked at them solemnly. “ How 
would you like to go for a picnic? ” 

“A picnic! ” Ruthie echoed. 

“ A — which? ” Moya asked, shivering as she looked 
out at the winter world through the frosted windows. 

“Just that, my children! ” Peg said, laughing at 
them. 

“ An adventure’s all right,” Moya said. “ But re- 
member, Peg, Ruthie’s adventure is yet to come, and 
we don’t want to die of pneumonia before we know 
what it is.” 

“ You won’t die,” Peg answered. “ We’ll go this 
afternoon, then.” 

“ But, Peggy — ” 

“ Did we ask you any questions about Rosalind, 
Moya? ” Peg asked her severely. “ No. We did not. 
Therefore you must follow me implicitly, if you 
die in the attempt.” 

Moya and Ruthie waited, wondering, while Peg hur- 
ried into the other room. 

“ Might as well stay by the fire and enjoy our last 
hours,” Moya said. “We’ll never be warm again.” 


n8 


RUTH IE 


In an hour Peg announced that they were ready. 

“ Bundle up warm/’ Mrs. Adams warned them, and 
Mrs. Blake and Mrs. McMahon laughed at their 
daughters. Both Moya and Ruthie wore a do-or-die 
expression, but they were plainly not pleased with the 
idea of a picnic in the snow. 

There was a jingling outside the door as they entered 
the hallway, muffled in furs and woolen coats, and as 
they came out on the slippery porch, they saw a 
small red sleigh waiting for them. 

“ Hop in,” said Peg, and the three girls sat close 
together, side by side, while Mr. Adams tucked them 
about securely with a great fur robe. Peg took the 
reins, and they waved goodbye, as the little horse 
jogged down the driveway, the bells tinkling. 

“ This is fun ! ” said Ruthie. 

“ I guess maybe we won’t die,” Moya said. “ I’m 
perfectly warm now, and it’s beginning to snow again.” 

The sleigh rounded the corner, and they glided 
along the road that led away from Holloway, further 
into the woods. As they drove on, the snow dusted 
down over their red cheeks, caught in their caps, 
made a second blanket over the robe that covered 
them. Moya began to sing, and Peg and Ruthie joined 
in lustily. 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


1 19 

“ Where are we going? ” Moya asked. 

“ Picnic,” Peg answered briefly, laughing at her. 

“ When will we be there? ” asked Ruthie. 

“ That’s better,” answered Peg. “ It’s about an 
hour more if Bones keeps up a good trot.” Bones 
was the small brown horse who was dragging them 
along so briskly. 

They chattered and sang, and Peg looked most mys- 
terious while the other two plied her with questions. 
The woods grew thicker and thicker, and when Ruthie’s 
new wrist watch showed that the hour was nearly 
consumed, Peg turned the sleigh quickly into an almost 
buried road that veered off to one side, and within a 
few minutes they came in sight of a small farmhouse, 
with smoke whirling merrily from the old chimney. 

“ We’ll put Bones in the stable first,” Peg said, and 
they drove into the small red barn, and supplied the 
horse with oats, covered him with blankets, before 
they took the packages of lunch from the back of the 
sleigh, and entered the tiny house. 

They stamped the snow from their boots, shook it 
from their hats and furs, and filed into the small 
living-room where a wood fire was burning brightly. 

“ Father sent Pete over this morning to get the 
place ready,” Peg said, sinking down on a stool and 


120 RUTHIE 

smiling at them. “ But we’re absolutely alone here — 

and there’s not a house for miles around.” 

“ But whose house is it? ” Moya asked. 

“ It was my great grandfather’s, but no one has 
lived in it for years and years — they moved into the 
big house long before Father was born. This room, 
you see, is the kitchen as well as the living-room.” 

Moya and Ruthie looked about curiously. 

“ Where’s the stove? ” asked Ruthie. “ I don’t — ” 

“ Oh, I see! ” Moya exclaimed. “ See, Ruthie, here 
are the brick ovens by the fireplace! They did the 
rest of their cooking right over the flames.” 

“ Correct,” said Peg, smiling at them, in pride. 
“ Isn’t it a darling? ” 

They explored the house thoroughly before they sat 
down to their picnic. In the cold attic, where their 
breath emerged from their mouths like smoke, Peg 
found a trunkful of old dresses. 

“ Let’s put these on and pretend we are living a 
hundred years ago,” she suggested. 

They bore the things back before the fireplace, and 
in a few minutes they had all three discarded their 
own clothes, and were fastening hoop-skirts about their 
waists, pinning fichus over tight little bodices. Hand 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


121 


in hand, they stood before the mirror, looking delight- 
edly at their reflections. 

Peg’s skirt was of yellow, sprigged with green; she 
had tucked her short dark hair beneath a ribboned cap, 
and her dark eyes shone as she looked at herself. 
Moya had chosen a stiff, billowing skirt of pink, and 
a ruffled muslin blouse to wear beneath her low-necked 
velvet bodice; she had done her yellow hair high on 
her head, with a single curl lying over her shoulder, and 
Ruthie had pinned an artificial pink rose above her 
ear. 

“ You look awfully grown-up, Moya,” she said. Peg, 
too, stared at her, and for the first time they realized 
that Moya was really older than they. In a year or so, 
her hair would really be done up, her skirts lengthened 
to her ankles. They had never noticed before how 
pretty she was, with her violet eyes and dark lashes, 
her tilted little nose. 

“ And you look adorable,” Moya returned. “ Peg 
looks like an old picture, doesn’t she, Ruthie? ” 

“ She like a daguerreotype,” Ruthie agreed, looking, 
smiling, at her friend’s face, with its sprinkling of 
freckles still left from the summer’s crop, and her clear, 
childish eyes. 


122 RUTHIE 

She turned to the mirror to look for the first time 
at herself. Her dress was in one piece; the waist 
with a square neck and little puffed sleeves, the skirt, 
a series of full ruffles, old blue, bound with a faded 
brown. She had crossed a fillet of brown ribbons about 
her hair, and she had pulled brown silk mitts over her 
hands. 

“ You know, you’re the funniest girl, Ruthie,” Moya 
said suddenly. “ Most of the time you just look like 
a regular school girl — oh, you’re pretty, of course, but 
you don’t look so different from other people. But 
then sometimes — now, and when you were dressed for 
Portia — you look perfectly wonderful. I can’t quite 
describe it — sort of romantic and mysterious and like 
the heroine of a most thrilling story. Doesn’t she, 
Peg? ” 

Peg nodded. “ She looks like someone who has been 
places and is going to have all sorts of wonderful things 
and dozens of people in love with her,” she said. 

Ruthie blushed. “ If ever I’m pretty as you two — ” 

“ Ruthie Blake! ” 

Moya laughed. “ We’ve had enough of this mutual 
admiration society,” she announced. “ Mistress Peg, 
prithee when is it that we are going to feed our pretty 
faces? ” 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


123 

Peg dropped a low curtsey. “ Will you accompany 
me to the kitchen, fair dames? ” she said. 

They opened the baskets and boxes and spread out 
the food on the low table before the fireplace. 

“ We couldn’t eat all this if we stayed for a week,” 
said Ruthie. 

“ But it’s too good to throw away,” Moya said. 
“ Pack it up, and — my lord, Peggy, look at that 
snow! ” Her eyes had caught at the window, and the 
three girls jumped to their feet with one accord and 
hurried across the room. 

The snow was falling so thickly that they could not 
see the road only a few yards away; it had heaped 
over the path and up against the house until it reached 
the window sills. 

“ We’d better be getting back,” Peg said. “ This 
looks like an awful storm. Hurry and get into your 
clothes.” 

They dressed rapidly, panting with their exertions. 
“ You two put out the fire and I’ll run and get Bones 
ready,” she said, and disappeared out into the storm. 
In a few minutes she came back, covered with snow — 
she looked like a walking snow-man, Moya told her — ■ 
and her eyes wide with fright. “ Poor Bones is most 
'frozen,” she said, “ and when I tried to hitch him up, 


RUTH IE 


124 

he stumbled and one of the runners of the sleigh 
banged against a piece of wood that was sticking out 
and broke off. We can’t get home! ” 

“ We can’t get home! ” Ruthie repeated. 

The three girls looked at each other anxiously. The 
snow was thudding upon the roof, beating against the 
windows; the banks had towered above the sills and 
obscured most of the view — not that it mattered, since 
the view everywhere was alike. The room already 
had become chilly, and Peg shivered. 

“ They won’t be able to come for us,” Peg went on. 
“ They never could find the road anyway, and it’s 
getting awfully dark! ” 

They stared at each other again. Then Moya 
laughed. “ This is an adventure that is an adven- 
ture, Peggy,” she said. “ Cheer up, girls. We’ll spend 
the night here all alone.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” Peg said, in terror, and then flushed. 

Ruthie and Moya turned toward her sharply. “ Why 
not? ” Moya demanded. 

“ Nothing — I guess we’ll have to stay.” 

“ Why did you say 4 Oh, no ’ like that? ” Moya asked 
firmly. 

“ Oh, just because — there might be bears or some- 
thing.” 


PEG’S ADVENTURE 


125 

“Bears! ” Moya scoffed. “They’d be frozen to 
death. And they couldn’t get in, anyway.” She seized 
her friend’s arms and turned her about so that they 
faced each other in the dimness. “ Peg, what are you 
afraid of? ” 

A tear trickled down Peg’s cheek, and she shivered 
miserably. “ I told you that nobody had lived in this 
house for most a hundred years,” she said slowly. 
“ That’s true. But I didn’t tell you the reason.” 

“ What is it? ” Ruthie asked breathlessly. 

“Tell us, Peg,” ordered Moya. 

Peg looked about the cold room with round eyes; 
the evening had descended as though the sky had 
dropped down over the earth; there was no sound for 
a minute except the thud of the snow on the house 
and the whirr of the wind. Peg gulped. 

“ Because,” she said in a scared low voice, “ the 
house is haunted! ” 


CHAPTER X 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 

F OR a moment the three girls stared at each other, 
shivering. Then Moya’s laugh rang out and 
echoed in the stillness. 

“Haunted! ” she scoffed. “What do we care? If 
it’s a nice ghost, we’ll give it some of our turkey sand- 
wiches.” 

Ruthie smiled faintly; Peg did not smile at all, and 
for all Moya’s gaiety, they knew that she, too, was a 
little nervous. 

“ Well, the first thing to do is to get warm,” Moya 
said. “ This atmosphere is enough to invite all the 
ghosts in the world. Let’s build a fire.” 

“ There aren’t any matches,” Peg said dismally. 
“ Father doesn’t keep them here for fear of fire.” 

For a moment Moya looked disconsolate; then her 
face brightened. “ I saw a box in the sleigh,” she 
said. “ Your Father must have dropped them. Run 
out, Ruthie, and get them, while I’m fixing the fire.” 

When Ruthie returned, Moya had laid the fire and 
they were waiting for her. “ It’s a shame to have 
126 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 127 
to burn these funny old newspapers/’ Moya said, “ but 
we can’t freeze.” 

In a few minutes, the fire was burning merrily. 
“ I’m going to heat some water,” said Moya. “ We 
ought to have something hot. I think I’ll put those 
turkey bones in, and the rest of the meat from the 
sandwiches and make some soup. There is some salt 
that Mrs. Adams put in for us to eat with the eggs. 
And we’ll have toast — oh, I think this is lots of fun.” 

“ It is fun,” Ruthie said. “ Wasn’t it lucky that 
there was so much food? ” 

Moya nodded briskly. “ Peg, stop looking so 
gloomy,” she ordered. “ Scout around and see if you 
can find three bowls. Ruthie, while I’m getting the 
supper ready, you run upstairs and see how many 
old quilts you can find.” 

“ Oh, not alone! ” Peg broke in. 

“ Nonsense,” Moya said. “ If you’re afraid, we’ll 
have a terrible night. We’ve got to pretend we don’t 
believe in any such thing as ghosts. I don’t, anyway. 
Do you, Ruthie? ” 

“ No,” Ruthie said stoutly. “ I’ll run upstairs this 
minute.” But her knees trembled as she paused on 
the top of the staircase, hesitating, before she entered 
the dark bedrooms. 


12 $ 


RUTHIE 


“ You’re not afraid either, Peggy,” Moya said. 
“ You know you’re not. Are you? ” 

“ N-no,” Peg answered. “ But — ” 

“ And we’re having a perfectly gorgeous adventure, 
aren’t we? ” 

“ Yes. But — what was that? ” 

She stopped short as something banged upstairs, 
and echoed through the house. 

“ Just Ruthie bumping into something,” Moya said, 
and in a few minutes Ruthie herself came down, laugh- 
ing, her arms filled with musty-smelling old quilts. 

“ We’d better sleep here before the fire,” said Moya. 
“ We don’t want to catch cold, and we don’t want the 
fire to go out. One of us can stand watch.” 

“ I’ll do that,” said Peg. “ I’m sure I won’t sleep 
a wink.” v 

“ Well, wake us up when the ghost comes, anyway,” 
Ruthie said gaily. “ I’ve always wanted to meet one. 
I wonder how you address ’em — ‘ My Dear Ghost,’ or 
‘ Your Ghostship ’? ” 

“ Or ‘ Your Ghostness,’ ” Peg said, laughing, too. 

“ That’s better,” said Moya. “ I knew you wouldn’t 
be scared very long. And I’ll tell you what let’s do — 
after supper, let’s tell ghost stories just to show how 
brave we are.” 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 129 
Ruthie giggled. “They scare me ’most to death 
even when I’m at home in the next room to Mother and 
Father,” she said. “ But just to show how brave I am, 
I’ll tell you the most horrible Chinese one — it always 
petrifies me with fear just to think of it.” 

“ Fine! ” said Moya, and Peg smiled uncertainly. 
They grew more cheerful during supper, and after- 
wards Moya piled the logs high in the fireplace, and 
they huddled together while the wind beat the snow 
against the outside of the little house. 

“ Come on now, Peg,” said Moya. “ You say this 
house is haunted — is it haunted by a beautiful young 
woman or a handsome young man or a witch or what? ” 
Peg smiled. Supper and the warmth of the fire had 
comforted her, and she stretched lazily for a moment. 
“ Father and Mother never told me,” she said. “ It 
was our maid who’s been in the family for years, and 
I’ve never asked them.” 

“ Maybe she made it up,” said Moya. 

“ Oh, I’m sure she didn’t,” Peg denied quickly. “ All 
the country people around here believe it.” 

Moya turned to Ruthie and laughed. “ Peg may be 
scared,” she said, “ but she’s certainly jealous enough 
of the haunted reputation of her family house, isn’t 
she? ” 


130 


RUTHIE 


“ But it’s- really true,” Peg said. “ The story, I 
mean. Of course I’ve never seen the ghost.” 

“ You will, though,” Moya said darkly. “ Go on, 
Peg.” 

“ How can I go on if you keep interrupting me? ” 
Peg demanded. “ Well, this is the story. One of my 
ancestors — I’m not sure just what relation he was — 
went to sea when he was nineteen years old. His 
name was Ethan Adams, and Mother has some old 
pictures of him — he was very handsome.” 

“ Oh, I hope he’s the ghost,” interrupted Moya. 

“ He isn’t,” said Peg. “ His boat put up in a port 
in Spain for repairs — I don’t know what the matter 
was, and he stayed there for several months. Of 
course he couldn’t speak a word of Spanish, but all 
the same, he fell in love with a beautiful young Span- 
ish girl named Teresa.” 

“ How do you suppose they talked to each other? ” 
Moya asked. 

“ It isn’t so hard,” Ruthie put in quickly. “ I used 
to get along beautifully with people in India and Japan 
even though we couldn’t say a word. You can play 
together just the same.” 

“ Well,” Peg went on, after she had waited with a 
patient expression to see if there would be more inter- 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 13 1 
ruptions, “ this girl was engaged to a Spanish man 
and she didn’t like him a bit. He was lots older than 
she and she didn’t want to marry him. But her father 
said she had to. So when Ethan’s ship was ready to 
sail, Teresa stole out of the house and went through 
the dark streets alone — she had never been out alone 
before — and she got on board the ship and came to 
America with him.” 

“ How perfectly romantic! ” said Moya. 

“ They were married and he brought her here to 
live.” 

“ In this very house, Peggy? ” 

“ In this very house. She probably used to sit be- 
fore this very fireplace,” said Peg. 

“ And how cold Holloway must have seemed to her 
after Spain! ” said Ruthie. “ Where did she come 
from? ” 

“ I don’t know what city it was. Well, the man 
she was engaged to was furious, of course, and he came 
after her. He said that she really belonged to him, 
and that as Ethan Adams wasn’t a Spaniard he had 
no claim on her, at all — that he was going to take 
her back to Spain. But she wouldn’t go, of course, 
even though she was terribly homesick. One day they 
were having a party here, and they asked Teresa to 


RUTHIE 


132 

dance. So she put on a Spanish shawl — all embroid- 
ered, and Mother has the very shawl at home — and 
took her castanets and began to dance.” Peg paused 
and looked at them for a moment to be sure that they 
were listening. “ While she was dancing,” she went 
on, “ the man she had been engaged to came to the 
window and looked in.” 

Ruthie glanced toward the window, and it seemed 
almost as though she could see the dark face of the 
Spaniard peering in through the snowy glass. 

“ He watched her for a moment and then suddenly 
he pulled a pistol from his belt and shot her.” 

“Oh! ” said Moya breathlessly. 

“ And while all the excitement was at its height, and 
they were caring for her, he disappeared and was never 
seen again. But ever since then the place has been 
haunted — people say that at night they hear the click 
of castanets, then a shot and a scream.” 

“ Heavens! ” said Moya. 

For a moment they were still, listening. 

“ It’s ten o’clock,” Ruthie said suddenly. “ I guess 
they won’t come for us, Peg. We’d better — ” She 
paused, frozen with fright. 

“ What’s that? ” Moya asked. 

They held their breaths. From upstairs came a 



“What’s that?” 



































r - 

. 












THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 133 
sharp clicking, rhythmic, continuous. Moya’s hand 
reached out and grasped Ruthie’s; Ruthie took Peg’s 
cold hand in hers. The sound continued, echoing 
through the house. Click — click — clickety — click . . . 
Click — click — clickety . . . 

“ Peg! ” said Moya, in a frightened whisper. 

They huddled close together, their eyes round. It 
was the first time in their friendship that Peg had 
ever known Moya to be frightened; she looked at her 
curiously. Suddenly she drew a deep breath. 
“D-don’t, Moya! ” she said. “It can’t be a ghost. 
I — I’m going upstairs and see! ” 

“Peg! ” Moya caught her hand with a scream. 
“ No! Don’t go up! Please, Peggy! ” 

“ I am.” Peg pulled loose from the restraining hand, 
hurried across the room, lighted a candle. She was 
frightened, too, but she felt that she could face any- 
thing if only by doing so she could quiet Moya. She 
felt as awed and strange as once, years before, when 
she had seen her mother cry. And it couldn’t be 
anything really. In the strength of her resolve, she 
was beginning to forget to be frightened. 

Ruthie and Moya followed her to the foot of the 
stairs, crept slowly behind her. 

Click — clickety — click . . . 


134 RUTHIE 

Their footsteps made no sound as they mounted the 
stairs. 

Click — click . . . 

Peg laughed suddenly, and as her laughter floated 
down the stairway towards them, Moya screamed. 

“ It’s nothing ! ” she said triumphantly. “ Silly of 
us to be afraid! See, it’s just this branch of the elm 
tree beating against the window. Look! ” 

They followed her into the dark room, cut across 
by a flat streak of moonlight, and Peg threw open the 
window noisily, caught at the twig that was blowing in 
the wind. 

Click — clickety — click . . . 

“See!” she said triumphantly. “Ghosts!” She 
laughed again and this time Moya and Ruthie laughed 
with her. “ Weren’t we little geese? ” she said. She 
snapped off the branch and tossed it on the floor. 

They were still trembling when they came down- 
stairs again. Moya heaped wood on the fire, and they 
wrapped themselves in the old quilts, talked drowsily, 
until, one after the other, they fell asleep in the still 
house before the fire. » 

They awoke to a cold room and a gray heap of ashes. 

“ My, I’m stiff! ” said Ruthie, kicking the quilts 
away from her and standing up to stretch. 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 135 

“ My arm’s asleep,” said Peg. 

“ And oh, my neck! ” wailed Moya. 

For a few minutes they went through a series of 
gymnastic exercises; then Moya rebuilt the fire, and 
they toasted the rest of the bread, and ate it hungrily. 

“ There’s nothing left to eat but three pieces of 
ginger-bread,” Peg said, “ but we might as well save 
them. Father may be delayed in getting here. They’ll 
probably come before lunch, though.” 

Ruthie walked to the window and looked out on the 
white world; Peg pulled on her coat and overshoes 
and hurried out to the barn to feed Bones. It had 
stopped snowing and the wind had died, but the ex- 
treme cold had frozen the great drifts into towering 
peaks and cup-like valleys. 

“ Let’s go outside and make a snow-man,” suggested 
Moya. “ The house is still pretty cold, and we ought 
to exercise.” 

For almost an hour they worked, until a great man 
of snow towered beside the house, standing guard with 
a gray twig in his frozen hand. They were cold and 
hungry when they went back to the house and sat 
before the fire. 

“ Might as well eat the gingerbread now,” said Moya. 
“ They’ll be along for us soon.” 


136 RUTHIE 

They sat and talked, and the minutes dragged into 
hours, while the stillness seemed almost to increase, 
and there was not the faintest echo of sleigh-bells or of 
voices. 

“ They can’t have forgotten us,” said Ruthie. “ How 
worried our mothers must be! ” 

“ I wish they’d come,” Peg sighed. “ I’m getting 
hungrier every minute. And my clothes feel uncom- 
fortable and wrinkled.” 

For another hour they waited. 

“ This is awful,” Moya said. “ We’ve got to do 
something. Let’s dress up again, and act a play. 
Let’s act the ghost story of Ethan Adams and Te- 
resa.” 

“ Ruthie’ll be Teresa,” Peg said, “ and you’ll be the 
Spanish villain, Moya. I’ll be Ethan.” 

They hurried to the attic and looked through the 
trunks until they found suitable costumes. 

“ Just think ! ” said Ruthie, as she pinned a piece 
of white lace over her hair, “ Teresa may have worn 
these very clothes! ” 

They acted out the play, but their ears were at- 
tuned all the time for the possible noise of a sleigh, 
or familiar voices. 

“ I’m awfully hungry,” said Peg. They scoured the 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 137 
house for possible food, but found nothing. The sun 
dropped lower and lower in the sky. 

“ Well, I guess we’re going to be here another 
night,” said Moya. “ I don’t know where they can be. 
And our candles are almost burnt out, too.” 

“ Let’s go out to the barn and try to fix the sleigh,” 
Ruthie said. “ Something must have happened, and 
we might as well die going home as die here of star- 
vation.” She laughed, but her laughter was not espe- 
cially convincing. “ We’ll start out in the morning.” 

They struggled with the broken runner, while Bones 
whinnied and shivered miserably. Without tools, the 
task was impossible, and they looked at each other 
disconsolately. 

“ How far are we from your house? ” asked Moya. 

“ About ten miles,” said Peg. “ It’s an awfully 
long walk in this snow.” 

“ We’d better start out in the morning, though,” 
Ruthie said. 

The sun dropped out of sight, and the one remain- 
ing candle flickered above the fireplace, went out. 
The room was dark except for the glow of the flames. 

“ This is the strangest adventure I’ve ever had,” 
said Moya. “ It seems like a dream. Just as if there 
was no one in the world but us.” 


/ 


RUTHIE 


138 

“ What could have happened to them? ” Peg asked, 
*for at least the twentieth time. 

And, “ I can’t imagine,” said Ruthie again. 

Finally, they dropped off to sleep, cold and hungry 
and disconsolate. The sky was black when Ruthie 
was awakened by a violent banging and a bombard- 
ment of sounds that echoed through the quiet. 

“ Moya! ” she whispered. “ Peg! ” 

They clutched each other’s hands and huddled close 
together while the sound increased. 

“ The door’s locked,” Moya whispered. “ Oh — ” 

In an instant they were wide awake. 

“ Listen ! ” Peg hissed suddenly. “ There’s a secret 
room upstairs — in the bedroom at the right, you know. 
We’ll hide up there. Quick now — I think they’re 
breaking in the door.” 

A ray of light slid across the floor suddenly, settled 
in a pool about the fireplace, illuminating their three 
frightened faces. They turned together, and saw that 
it came from a lantern that was held up to the window. 

“Peg! Peg Adams! ” 

Suddenly Peg sobbed and rushed to the door, flung 
it open. “ Father! Oh, Father! ” 

Ruthie and Moya began to cry with their relief. 


THE NIGHT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE 139 

Mr. Blake and Mr. Adams burst into the room, fol- 
lowed by Pete and another man. 

“ You poor chickens! ” Mr. Blake said, smoothing 
his daughter’s hair as she clung to him. “ Where’s 
that thermos bottle, Harry? ” 

In a confused moment, the fire was blazing again, 
and the girls were sipping hot coffee, and listening 
to Mr. Adams. 

“ We didn’t notice the storm either,” he was saying, 
“ until the roads were high with drifts. Of course 
your mothers were frantic. There’s only the one sleigh, 
and we tried to come with the machine, but the wheels 
simply spun about in one place, and refused to push 
the car forward. It was getting darker all the time, 
and we knew that we’d never get here. Then Mrs. 
McMahon said she knew that Moya’d take care of 
you, that you had enough to eat and that Moya knew 
enough about cooking to fix up something out of the 
stuff.” 

“ She made soup,” Peg interrupted. “ Awful good 
soup, too.” 

“Well!” said Mr. Adams. “This morning we 
hurried across to Webster’s and got a sleigh and set 
out, but the drifts were too deep. We finally had to 


RUTHIE 


140 

go back and get a plough to clear before us. That’s 
why we’re so late. You’re a bunch of brave kids, 
that’s what you are! ” 

Back at the Adams farmhouse, the three mothers 
were waiting with warm clothes and a hot supper, and 
they sat late in the dining-room, while Peg interrupted 
Moya and Moya interrupted Ruthie in the telling of 
their adventure. 

“Long live the Adventurers’ Club! ” said Ruthie, 
waving a napkin above her head, when they finally 
pushed back their chairs. 

“You’re next, remember, Ruthie! ” said Moya and 
Peg together. 

“ I’m next,” agreed Ruthie. “ And I have a lot 
to live up to.” 


CHAPTER XI 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 

T HE new year tumbled in, and brought with its 
first three months a multitude of interests and 
events. At school there were new lessons and new 
teachers; there was the constant bustle of The Bean- 
stalk — the selection of manuscripts and the work at 
the printer’s office. Moya’s fifteenth birthday came on 
February twentieth, with the excitement of a party 
and new dresses; Peg’s birthday followed in March. 

“ Time has simply flown! ” said Ruthie one day in 
the school-room, when they stopped short in their 
conversation to stare at the calendar above Miss 
Orcutt’s desk. The leaf that had been March lay 
crumpled in the waste-basket, and April stared at them 
with its thirty days. 

“ It’s spring! ” said Peg. “ I like winter all right, 
but it’s been so cold and slushy these last two months. 
And now — oh, what fun we’re going to have! ” 

“ Let’s take our bicycles out and ride into the coun- 
try Saturday,” Moya suggested. “ I want to smell the 
green leaves and really believe it.” 


142 RUTHIE 

The day was as warm and sunny as they could de- 
sire, and they pulled sweaters over their dresses and 
set out, bare-headed, breathing long draughts of the 
spring air, singing, as they pedalled along the road 
between rows of trees that were dotted with small 
new leaves. 

Moya’s fair hair blew out like a cloud as she pushed 
ahead, and her bright blue sweater was like a piece 
of the sky that had dropped down and covered her. 
Peg, at her right, wore a brilliant red sweater, and 
at her left, Ruthie’s brown braids flapped in the wind 
against a sweater of corn yellow. Their cheeks were 
red from exertion, and people turned to look back as 
they flew past, singing and laughing. 

“ Where are we going? ” called Ruthie, resting her 
feet on the front of her bicycle, and coasting down a 
little hill that swept away before them. 

“ Let’s turn off the main road,” suggested Peg. “ The 
next fork goes out by Harford Corners, and maybe 
we’ll get lost.” 

They turned from the smooth macadam to a bumpy, 
dusty road, and wound about through the trees until 
they came to the main street of the village. Holloway, 
itself, was a small city, and it was surrounded by towns 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 143 

of various sizes — some consisting of merely a handful 
of houses, like the village that held the Adams farm- 
house, and others steadily increasing until the larger 
of them boasted an entire street of stores and perhaps 
a moving-picture theater. Harford Corners was cen- 
trally located in the circle of small villages; the high 
school, shared by the entire township was there, the 
Woman’s Club and the public hall. It was a musty, 
sleepy town, dotted with quaint old houses and ram- 
bling stores. 

It was still early in the morning when they reached 
the main street, and pedalled along until they came to 
the small yellow railroad station and the single line of 
rails. They got off their bicycles, and stared at the 
long cars that had been side-tracked beside the freight- 
house. 

“ Of all the fun! ” said Moya. “ It’s a circus! ” 

“ It’s fate,” Ruthie agreed. “ Of course we’re 
going.” 

They wheeled their bicycles across the tracks to 
the freight-house, and left them in charge of an old 
man who was leaning in the doorway, chewing tobacco, 
and watching the unloading of the circus train. 

Three men were standing beside the cars, directing 


RUTH IE 


144 

the work and talking together, and Moya stopped to 
listen, as they came towards them. Suddenly her eyes 
began to dance, and she giggled. 

“ Did you hear what they were saying? ” she de- 
manded of Peg and Ruthie. 

“ No, we’re polite little girls and don’t eavesdrop,” 
Ruthie said. “ What were they saying? ” 

“ They’re setting up in that field beside the post- 
office — they’re going to be here two days, and they 
expect a crowd from all around. But they’re in a 
great difficulty.” 

“ What? ” 

Moya had paused dramatically. “ They’re trying 
to find someone to water the elephants. It seems 
that usually there are a bunch of small boys, but to- 
day there’s some sort of a boy scout outing and there’s 
not a kid in town. And — ” 

“ Moya McMahon! ” Ruthie said. “ Do you mean 
to say that you’re suggesting — ” 

Peg began to laugh. “ Oh, Moya! ” 

“ Well, why not? ” Moya demanded. “ We’d get 
our tickets free and think of the fun. Shall we? ” 

“ Would you dare, Ruthie? ” asked Peg. 

“ Oh, I’d dare all right,” Ruthie answered. “ I’m 
used to elephants. In the Orient they run around every- 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 145 

where — they use ’em in the lumber mills in Burma. 
They’re quite gentle and friendly.” 

They looked at each other in amusement. 

“ Well—” Peg began. “ Shall we? ” 

“Yes. Come along and let’s ask ’em! ” Ruthie 
started toward the three men, but Moya caught her 
arm. 

“ I was only joking, Ruthie. After all — ” 

“ I’m not joking, though,” Ruthie responded. “ Why 
not? We haven’t had an adventure for ages, and I 
think it would be loads of fun to be nurse-maids to an 
elephant or two. Unless you and Peg are afraid of 
them! ” 

“ I’m not afraid,” Peg said. “ They’re honestly 
quite gentle, aren’t they, Ruthie? ” 

“ Like kittens,” Ruthie assured her, and they laughed 
again. 

But Moya still hesitated. “I’m not afraid, of 
course,” she said. “ But we’re too old to be so silly. 
And—” 

Ruthie made a face. “ Just because you’re fifteen! ” 
she scoffed. “ Moya, I can see age creeping upon you. 
You’re no fun at all any more. I suppose, though, that 
you have to live up to the dignity of your years. If 
I—” 


146 RUTHIE 

Moya snorted. “ I’m not any fun any more! ” 
she repeated. “Huh! ” She walked briskly over to 
the men, while Ruthie and Peg followed, laughing. 

“ I just overheard what you were saying,” Moya 
explained, as the three men looked up curiously at the 
girls. “ I couldn’t help hearing. And if there aren’t 
any boys, why don’t you let us three water the ele- 
phants? ” 

“ You three girls? ” The man with the black mus- 
tache looked at them incredulously. 

“ Aren’t you afraid of them? ” the second man asked. 

“ I should say not,” Moya answered. “ We love ele- 
phants. And besides, Miss Blake here is quite used 
to them.” 

“ Used to them? ” 

“ I used to live in Siam,” Ruthie answered. “ And 
then in Singapore there was a friend of father’s who 
used to capture animals for circuses and zoos. He — ” 

“ Who was it? Webster — Murphy? ” The man 
looked at her sharply. 

“No, it was Mr. Peter Reardon,” Ruthie said. 
“ He—” 

“Pete Reardon! Well, what do you know about 
that! ” He turned to the other two men in surprise. 
“ What’s Pete doing now? ” 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 


i47 

“ I think he’s in England,” Ruthie answered. “ He’d 
had the fever pretty badly, and I think Father said 
that he was going away for a time.” 

“ The kid knows what she’s talking about,” the man 
said again. “ Pete Reardon! My lord! ” 

Moya and Peg looked at Ruthie proudly; it was 
nice to have a friend who had traveled so much. 

“ Are you going to let us? ” Moya asked. 

The man laughed. 

“Please! ” Ruthie begged. “It would be loads of 
fun, and — ” 

The men looked at each other in amusement. 
“ Well — ” the man with the black mustache began 
slowly. 

“ Someone’s got to do it,” reminded one of the others. 
“And after all — ” 

“ They’re going to let us! ” Peg exclaimed excitedly. 
“ I can see by their faces! Aren’t you? ” 

They laughed again. “ You’re really serious? ” 

“Of course we are! ” 

“ All right, then. Come along. My name’s Mon- 
roe, by the way — these gentlemen are Mr. Williams 
and Mr. O’Brien.” 

They shook hands gravely, and the three girls 
linked arms and walked across the tracks and up 


148 RUTHIE 

the main street of Harford Corners with the circus 

men. 

“ My, I’m glad we took this road! ” said Ruthie. 

The tents were already raised in the field, and a 
crowd of townspeople were standing about, watching 
the preparations. The field was a mass of moving 
color; men and women stood talking, silhouetted 
against the white canvas; a group of gaily painted 
cages containing the small menagerie stood at one 
side. As they crossed the field, they passed a circle 
of women, sitting together on a blanket, mending 
tattered, spangled costumes. A clown, white-faced 
and grinning, still in his suit and holding his red- 
spotted costume over his arm, waved to them, as 
they passed. 

“ There they are! ” Ruthie called excitedly. “ The 
darlings! ” 

At the farther end of the field three ungainly gray 
shapes were moving about clumsily, pushing cages, 
and wagons from place to place while an over ailed man 
stood guard with an elephant hook. 

“ My stars ! ” Moya said suddenly. “ Will you 
look—” 

She was interrupted by squeals from Peg and Ruthie 
who saw what she was looking at. It was a little 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 149 

elephant, about the size of a pony, solemnly tagging 
one of the three large ones, his ridiculous little trunk 
swaying as he toddled after her. 

“ That’s Junior,” Mr. Monroe explained, smiling at 
them. “ He’s Sally’s youngest child — Sally’s the big 
one pushing the cage there at the right, and he follows 
her about all day long.” 

The elephant keeper came up to them, and Mr. Mon- 
roe introduced the three girls, while he stared incred- 
ulously. 

“ You’ll have to get water in buckets from the post- 
office,” he explained, “ and fill this wooden tub. The 
buckets are over here.” 

Mr. Monroe went on about his business, and they 
took their buckets gaily and hurried to the post-office 
pump, walked slowly back across the field, looking 
curiously at the circus people. The water splashed in 
the tub. 

“ There ! ” said Moya triumphantly. 

Sally was driven first to the tub, and Moya’s eyes 
grew round as she emptied it with one long pull 
from her gray trunk. 

“ Heavens! ” said Peg. “ I thought there was enough 
water there to feed a dozen elephants.” 

The keeper laughed as they picked up their buckets 


150 RUTH IE 

again and made their way back across the field. They 
made trip after trip, until their arms ached from the 
buckets, and the elephants drained the tub as though 
it were a mere thimble-full of water. As the morning 
wore on, the day became hotter, and Sambo, the largest 
of the three, filled his trunk, and flipping it into the air, 
sprayed himself, and incidentally the three girls, with 
the cool water. 

“ Stop him! ” Peg said excitedly. “ Here you 
Sambo, this is to drink, not to bathe in.” 

Sambo looked up at her with his wicked little beady 
eyes as she spoke his name, and the watchful keeper 
prodded him impatiently with the hook. 

“None of that! ” he ordered sharply. “ Drink it.” 
Sambo’s massive head turned slowly as he looked at 
him, then he leaned over and drained the tub. 

“ He knows what you say to him, doesn’t he? ” said 
Peg. 

“Lord, yes, Miss. They know a lot — elephants. 
Look here — Sally! I say, Sally! ” 

Sally lumbered toward him, with Junior padding 
along behind her, for all the world like a small boat 
attached to a yacht. 

“ What’s in my pocket, Sally? ” 

Lazily, the great elephant lifted her trunk, dropped 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 151 

it beside the trainer’s pocket and nosed in, brought out 
a peanut. 

“ Father says they’re really the most intelligent ani- 
mals,” Ruthie said. “ Lots more than horses or dogs. 
And they have awfully large vocabularies.” 

“ He’s right, Miss,” the keeper answered. “ Mike! ” 

The third of the elephants moved clumsily toward 
him. “ Want a drink, Mike? ” 

The elephant looked at the empty tub, and raised 
his eyes to the keeper, made a strange, throaty noise. 

“ We’ll fill it up again,” said Moya, and again they 
hurried across the field with their buckets. 

“ This is fun,” said Peg, “ but I must say, I think 
we’re earning our keep.” 

When they returned to the tub, with their buckets 
full, Mr. Monroe was waiting for them. 

“ You girls rest for a bit now,” he said. “ Want to 
walk around with me? ” 

They nodded eagerly, and set forth across the field 
together. 

“ The freaks are in this tent,” Mr. Monroe said. 
“ Want to meet ’em? ” 

“ Oh, yes! ” 

They entered the tent, with the sunlight shedding a 
warm, diffused light over its occupants. 


152 


RUTHIE 


“ 1 want you to meet Mr. Wainwright.” 

They shook hands with the Human Skeleton. He 
was about Moya’s height, a dark-eyed young man, and 
his thin frame was encased in a tight suit of evening 
clothes. 

“ These girls are watering the elephants for us,” 
Monroe explained. 

“ They’re funny beasts, aren’t they? ” the Human 
Skeleton asked in a pleasant voice. 

Ruthie looked up in surprise. It was strange to 
find the hideous, misformed little man talking like an 
ordinary human being. 

“ Junior’s my favorite — I teach him tricks in all 
my spare time.” 

“ He’s a darling,” Ruthie agreed. 

For fully five minutes they stayed, talking with him, 
growing more and more surprised to find him an inter- 
esting, and — if you closed your eyes — a charming 
person. 

The fat lady had less to say; it was a hot day, and 
she was extremely uncomfortable, but the Sword Swal- 
lower, in her spangled costume, chattered gaily, while 
they watched, fascinated, the mouth that could close 
over the hilts of long gleaming weapons. Ruthie alone 
of the three girls enjoyed the snake charmer. She 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 153 

patted the great green serpent with her small hand 
and smiled at Moya’s shudder. 

“ He can’t really hurt you, you know,” she said. 

“Ugh! ” said Moya, and the lady with the snake 
coiled about her bare neck and arms smiled at her. 

The crowd had begun to gather, and as they walked 
about with the circus manager, they passed groups of 
staring people. Mr. Monroe led them to the best 
seats in the “big-top,” the largest of the tents, and told 
them what the clowns were really like, while they 
rocked with laughter at their antics. 

It was a small circus, and in a short time they had 
seen everything. 

“ I suppose we’ve got to be going along pretty soon,” 
Moya said. “ I hate to, but — ” 

“Let’s say goodbye to the elephants first,” said 
Ruthie. 

They walked back to the end of the field, and Junior 
moved about them, pulling pop-corn and peanuts from 
their sweater pockets. Sally lumbered up and looked 
at them with her funny eyes; then with a wave of her 
trunk she pulled off Peg’s red hair-ribbon and waved 
it gaily in the air. 

“ Oh, I’d like an elephant! ” Ruthie said. “ Wouldn’t 
it be fun? ” 


154 


RUTHIE 


“ You could have him follow you to school like 
Mary’s little lamb/’ Moya suggested. “ Think what 
a sensation you’d make! ” 

As they started back toward the road, Mr. Monroe 
hurried toward them. 

“ We’re going to be here two days,” he said. “ I 
hope you can come back again.” 

“ We’ll try,” Ruthie promised. 

He hesitated for a moment, and then reached in 
his coat pocket. “ Er — I have something for you,” he 
said, and drew forth three packages, wrapped in brown 
paper. 

The girls opened them eagerly. Each was a group 
photograph of the entire circus, autographed by the 
manager. 

“ I’m going to frame mine and hang it in my room,” 
Ruthie promised. “ Thank you for being so nice to 
us, Mr. Monroe. We’ve had a lovely time.” 

They shook hands, and had almost reached the road 
when Mr. Monroe stopped them again. The funniest 
and fattest of the clowns was with him, and in his arms 
he held a small, wriggling mongrel puppy. 

“ You remember Fifi, don’t you? ” asked Mr. Mon- 
roe. “ The little brown dog who acts with Bobby, 
here? ” 


SPRING— AND ELEPHANTS 155 

“ Of course we do,” said Ruthie. 

“ This is Fifi’s pup — and Bobby wants to know if 
you will accept him. He already has six dogs, and 
he thinks — ” 

Bobby grinned and turned a somersault, stood up 
and bowed stiffly. 

“ I want him to have a good home,” he explained 
formally. “And I thought — ” 

“ I’d adore him! ” said Ruthie. “ And Mother said 
I could have a puppy! ” She reached out eager hands 
and took the warm, wriggling little dog, who immedi- 
ately lapped her face, and snuggled in her arms. 

The clown was still waving gaily, when they turned 
down the road toward the station. 

“ It’s lucky we left when we did or they might have 
given us an elephant! ” said Moya. 

“ I like the puppy better — isn’t he a darling? ” 

The puppy barked sharply and looked at them with 
its bright eyes, half hidden beneath a mop of strag- 
gling brown and gray hair. 

“ There’s only one trouble with having such thrilling 
adventures,” said Peg, as they pedalled home, their 
hair dusty and disordered, and the little brown puppy 
peering curiously from Ruthie’s pocket. 

“ What? ” asked Moya. 


RUTH IE 


156 

“ It gives you a Satiable curiosity about all the others 
you might have. Remember the ’satiable curiosity the 
elephant child had in The Jungle Book? ” 

Ruthie nodded. “ We’ll have others,” she said, nod- 
ding her head emphatically. 

“ That reminds me! ” said Moya, and pointing her 
finger at Ruthie meaningly. 

“ What? ” Ruthie looked blankly. 

“ Oh, I know! ” said Peg. “ That the third adven- 
ture of the club — ” 

“ Is to be planned and executed by Miss Ruth 
Blake,” finished Moya firmly. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 
ASTER came late that year, and Ruthie’s adven- 



-L-i ture was scheduled for some time before vacation. 
The first week of April passed; the second began. 

“ You haven’t but a week, you know,” Moya warned 
her. 

“ I know,” Ruthie said. “ Let’s see.” She paused 
for a moment, thinking. “ You and Peg come to my 
house Saturday morning early, and I’ll promise to have 
my adventure ready.” 

Moya cheered loudly. 

“ Don’t cheer, girls,” Ruthie said with mock sad- 
ness. “ Poor Ruthie is dying. I haven’t thought of 
a thing.” 

“ We’re not worrying about that,” said Peg, unsym- 
pathetically. “ You’ve got to have something ready in 
three days.” 

On Saturday morning they met at Ruthie’s house. 

“ I haven’t been able to think of a thing,” she apol- 
ogized. “ Honestly I’ve tried. But I’ll tell you what 


157 


158 RUTHIE 

we’ll do. Mother wants me to take Father’s wash over 
to the Chinese laundry on West street, and perhaps 
we’ll meet an adventure on the way.” 

Peg’s face fell, but Moya was watching her friend’s 
face closely. 

“ I’ll bet you have something planned,” she said. 
“ And you never take Mr. Blake’s washing — it’s always 
sent in the car.” 

“ The car is out of order,” said Ruthie, but Moya 
looked at the laundry bag suspiciously as Ruthie picked 
it up. 

They started along Cedar street, and Ruthie car- 
ried the washing with no more self-consciousness than 
as though it had been a pocketbook. “ I’ve carried 
so many funny things in so many funny places,” she 
explained, as several people smiled, and one boy called 
out to ask where the bag was going with the girl. 

The shop of Charlie Hoy — he had adopted the 
Charlie since he came to America — was at the very 
end of West street. It was a typical small Chinese 
laundry, with its steamed windows and its sprawling 
sign. Within, the small yellow man was ironing 
briskly, seemingly unconscious of the heat. Ruthie 
addressed him in a strange sing-song voice, and Moya 
and Peg stared at her incredulously. 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 


159 

“ Do you mean to say that you talk Chinese N’ Moya 
demanded. 

“ Only a little,” said Ruthie. “ You see we lived 
in Pekin for three years when I was a little girl, and 
I had a Chinese nurse from the Mission school. But 
I don’t talk very well.” Always she seemed to apolo- 
gize, instead of to boast, of the things that made her 
interesting and different from the others. 

The sing-song conversation continued, and finally 
Ruthie turned to the others, smiling. 

“ Charlie Hoy says that it’s such a lovely windy day 
that he’d be delighted to have us fly some of his kites,” 
she said. “ Do you two know how? ” 

Peg shook her head. “ Just boys fly kites here,” she 
said. 

“ Well, these girls are going to fly ’em,” Ruthie an- 
nounced. “ You’re going to have luncheon with me, 
and I want you to get up a good appetite.” 

Charlie Hoy disappeared into the back-room of his 
shop, and returned with three huge frame-works of 
silk and paper. 

“ This one is the Empress,” Ruthie explained, as he 
laid them on the counter before the bundles of clean 
washing with their bright pink slips. And surely 
enough, the paper was painted with the figure of a 


160 RUTHIE 

woman, dressed in heavy robes of silk and tinsel. 

“ She’s a special holiday kite. Isn’t she lovely? ” 

“ Well — ” Moya hesitated. 

“Of course I think Chinese women are pretty,” 
Ruthie said, smiling. “ I love their straight black hair 
and their little slanting eyes. I’ll fly her Majesty, be- 
cause she’s hardest to manage. You each take a butter- 
fly.” She nodded to Charlie, and they went out to- 
gether, Peg and Moya holding their kites awkwardly 
and feeling rather foolish. If this was Ruthie’s idea 
of an adventure, they were disappointed in her powers 
of imagination. 

But they felt a thrill of excitement, after Ruthie 
had taught them to toss the gay colored toys up into 
the wind, to let out the long scarlet cords, while the 
kites danced and leaped in the blue sky, beneath the 
heavy clouds. They ran about the field, laughing ex- 
citedly, and pulling at the cords to prevent collisions, 
while the kites climbed higher and higher. 

“ Now we’d better have lunch,” said Ruthie, winding 
her cord deftly about the bit of carved wood she held 
in her hand, while the Chinese Empress sailed down 
from the heights. 

“ Ruthie Blake, I know you planned this,” Moya 
said suspiciously. 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 161 

“ Not I,” said Ruthie, laughing. 

“ You needn’t tell me that that Chinaman gave us 
these kites just by chance.” 

Ruthie grinned. “ Curiosity killed a cat once,” she 
remarked. ' 

“ But I’m not a cat. Anyway, I bet someone planned 
this.” 

“ Destiny, maybe.” Ruthie’s eyes danced. 

“ Maybe not! ” 

“ Maybe not, then, Moya! But little girls shouldn’t 
ask too many questions.” 

They followed her back to the laundry, with their 
kites imprisoned beneath their arms, and returned them 
gratefully to Charlie Hoy. 

“ Now for luncheon,” said Ruthie. 

Peg and Moya turned toward the door, but Ruthie 
called to them, and they looked after her in horror as 
she disappeared into the dark hallway behind the iron- 
ing boards. 

“ Ruthie! Where are you going? ” They hurried 
after her, and emerged, from the musty darkness, into 
a glare of sunlight, so that they stood, blinking stu- 
pidly. 

As their eyes became used to the brilliance, they 
discovered that they were staring straight at a ball of 


1 62 RUTHIE 

blue glass, set in the center of a small garden. Beside 
it, with gestures to make up for the words she did not 
know, Ruthie was talking to a small Chinese woman, 
dressed in long straight trousers, and an apricot col- 
ored coat. Ruthie looked up and smiled. 

“ This is Mrs. Hoy,” she explained, and the tiny 
woman bobbed her greetings and hurried off into the 
house, with fluttering gestures of her small yellow 
hands. 

“ Ruthie, what on earth — ” began Moya, and Ruthie 
laughed. 

“ I might as well admit it now,” she answered. “ It 
is a planned adventure. But I was telling the truth 
when I said I didn’t plan it — it was Mother and Father. 
We stayed in Canton when I was a tiny girl, and Mr. 
Hoy’s father was our servant. When Charlie Hoy 
decided to come to America, Father suggested that 
he come to Holloway and made arrangements here 
for him. And two years ago he sent back to Canton 
for his wife. So there! ” 

“ But Ruthie — ” Peg’s eyes wandered about the 
yard incredulously. 

“ Isn’t it sweet here? ” 

“ I don’t believe my eyes,” said Moya. “ I know 
I’m dreaming.” 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 163 

The small back-yard of the laundry was surrounded 
by a high wooden wall, painted a color that had been 
originally neither blue nor green and yet a combination 
of both, and that had been faded and softened by the 
sun and rains. Small strange plants grew in the 
earth beds; a miniature pool, fringed with rushes, re- 
flected the blue sky and billowing clouds. An ex- 
tremely American table and three American chairs 
were placed in the center of the yard on a rectangular 
floor of salmon colored bricks. 

Mrs. Hoy appeared with a great blue bowl, the color 
of the glass ball that sat beside the tiny pool, and she 
placed it and three little curving spoons of scalrlet 
china on the center of the table. 

“ Ready? ” asked Ruthie. 

They sat down and ate their soup from the common 
bowl. 

Moya hesitated for a moment before she tasted, and 
Ruthie laughed. 

“ I know what you’re thinking,” she accused her. 
“ But you’re all wrong. The Chinese are really the 
cleanest cooks in the world. And they keep a great 
basket of porous sandalwood in their kitchens to 
absorb all the odors of cooking. Oh, I love a Chinese 
kitchen! ” 


RUTH IE 


164 

“ I can’t believe this is Holloway! ” said Peg. “ I 
think those kites were enchanted, and in some way 
you got us on a magic carpet when we weren’t looking 
and whirled us to China.” 

“ And I had no idea Chinese people were like this,” 
Moya added. “ I thought — you know the boys here 
chase after Charlie Hoy and call out, ‘ Chink, chink, 
Chinaman, eats dead rats.’ ” 

Ruthie laughed. “ Everyone always thinks they eat 
rats,” she said. “ I never ate a rat in my life.” 

“ I should hope not! ” Peg said fervently. 

“ But I’ve lived in China a lot. Oh, I suppose they 
do eat them sometimes. Americans have eaten horses, 
too, in times when they couldn’t get anything else. 
And they have a lot of famine in China! ” 

Silently, the little Chinese woman removed the empty 
blue bowl, replaced it with a yellow one, filled with a 
steaming mass of chicken and peppers, of water chest- 
nuts and rice sprouts, and dozens of other good things 
that even Ruthie did not recognize. They smiled at 
their waitress shyly as she brought three little black 
lacquer bowls of snow-white rice. 

Ruthie picked up the bamboo chopsticks that lay at 
her place and began to eat. 

“ Aren’t we going to have any forks? ” Moya wailed. 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 165 

“ Forks? ” Ruthie’s voice was scornful. “ I should 
say not. Eating Chinese food with forks is like but- 
tering frosted cake. Not a chance, Moya! ” 

Moya fumbled with the chopsticks, and wailed again. 

“You’d better hurry up, Moya,” advised Ruthie, 
with dancing eyes. “ Or there won’t be any left. My, 
it’s good! ” 

“ Oh, I can’t! ” said Peg, fumbling with the narrow 
sticks. “ Ruthie, you’re cruel. And it looks so good ! ” 

“ And smells so good,” said Moya, striving again to 
hold a piece of meat between the pieces of wood. 

Peg watched Ruthie intently and suddenly captured 
a piece of chicken from the bowl, popped it into her 
mouth. “And tastes so good! ” she said exultantly, 
making a face at Moya. 

“ Oh ! ” said Moya and plunged her sticks into the 
bowl determinedly. 

There were many casualties before the meal was 
over; sometimes a piece of meat or pepper would 
drop to the table before the girls had carried the sticks 
to their mouths, but before the bowl was emptied, 
Moya and Peg were managing almost as well as Ruthie. 

“ It isn’t half so hard as it looks after you’re used 
to it,” said Moya. 

“ And it’s lots more fun than a fork,” Peg agreed. 


1 66 RUTHIE 

“ I think the food actually tastes better. I think I’ll 
give up forks altogether.” 

Ruthie watched them delightedly, pleased with her 
adventure. When Mrs. Hoy appeared with the last 
course, they squealed with delight. A flat dish heaped 
with miniature oranges, candied in sugar; a bowl of 
pineapple, spiced and sweetened, an octagonal wooden 
tray heaped with thin little cakes of rice flour that 
seemed to melt magically the moment they put them 
into their mouths; a round green jar of preserved 
ginger. 

“I’ve never eaten such a meal in my life! ” said 
Moya. “ I had no idea, Ruthie — ” 

“And in Holloway! ” Peg repeated. 

When the last dishes were cleared away, Charlie Hoy 
appeared with a huge wooden box, and three china 
trays, one blue, one lavender, and one yellow. 

“ What now? ” said Moya. “ My immortal soul, 
what now? ” 

“ Gardens,” announced Ruthie. “ Real little Chi- 
nese gardens.” 

Until late in the afternoon, when Mr. Blake’s car 
drew up before the laundry, they played. Ruthie 
showed them how to pile earth from one of the garden 
plots on their trays, to scoop out miniature valleys, 


THE THIRD ADVENTURE 167 

to build pigmy hills. A two-inch branch from one 
of the bushes made a towering tree; a five-inch square 
of mirror from the large wooden box made an enor- 
mous lake. The wooden box itself seemed bottom- 
less. It contained hundreds of the small toys for which 
Chinese and Japanese artisans are famous. There 
were little houses and temples scarcely bigger than 
postage stamps, tiny men and women, horses and ele- 
phants, smaller than a child’s littlest finger nail. There 
were boats and bridges, towers and pagodas, gates and 
dams. 

“ After you get them home,” said Ruthie, “ you can 
plant real little trees and water them every day. An 
orange seed will sprout, you know, and a piece of 
turnip grows into the most wonderful forest.” 

“After we get them home! ” said Moya. “Do 
you mean to say that we’re going to keep them? ” 

“ Of course. We brought them from China — I have 
a whole box of toys that I’m going to put in the cab- 
inet in my room. I’ve been saving them because I 
wanted to surprise you first.” 

“ Oh, Ruthie! ” 

They said goodbye to their Chinese host and hostess, 
smiling at Charlie Hoy’s pidgin English, and Mr. Blake 
carried the trays of toys carefully into the automobile. 


1 68 


RUTHIE 


“ It’s been perfectly lovely! ” said Peg, as they 
stopped at her house. “ Oh, Ruthie, it’s such a privi- 
lege to know you. I knew your adventure would be 
different from anything we’ve ever had.” 

Ruthie’s eyes shone as though a star had fallen into 
each of them. “ I’m so glad,” she said. “ We’ve each 
had our adventure now.” 

“ But it isn’t the end,” Moya said quickly. “ Easter 
vacation is in a week, now — ” 

Mrs. Blake leaned forward in the car to interrupt 
them. “ Easter vacation is in a week, to be sure,” 
she said. “ And your mothers have promised to lend 
you two to me and Ruthie for the entire two weeks.” 

“Mrs. Blake! ” 

“Mother! ” 

Mrs. Blake smiled. “ Yes,” she said. “ And I shan’t 
tell you where we’re going. That will be my adven- 
ture.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE HOUSE PARTY 

T HE Blakes’ plans for the summer had been many 
and different, so when Mrs. Blake announced 
that the house party was to be at their summer cot- 
tage, Ruthie looked at her blankly. 

“ Our summer cottage, Mother? ” 

Mrs. Blake nodded. 

" Woods — mountains — seashore? ” 

“ You’ll find out soon enough.” 

Ruthie laughed. “ Stingy! ” she said. “ How will 
we know whether to pack bathing suits or snow- 
shoes? ” 

“ You’d better prepare for everything.” 

Besides Ruthie and Peg and Moya, Rose Delain 
and Aileen Carter from their class had been invited, 
and Amy McBride, although she was older than the 
others, had accepted the invitation delightedly. 

“ I’ve invited your cousin, Ruthie,” Mrs. Blake said, 
as they sat in Ruthie’s room, packing her trunk to- 
gether. 

“ My cousin? ” 

169 


i 7 o RUTHIE 

“ Yes — she’s your Uncle Harrington’s daughter.” 

“ What’s her name, Mother? ” 

“ Peri — you’ve never met her.” 

“ Peri! What a funny name! How old is she? ” 

“ She must be about fourteen — she may be fifteen. 
I’ve never seen her, but I imagine she’s quite nice. 
I always liked your Uncle Harrington.” 

On Friday afternoon the girls collected at Ruthie’s 
house, carrying suitcases and tennis rackets. The 
Blake car carried them to the Holloway station; Rose 
and Aileen and Amy stood together, while the three 
chums, inseparable as always, laughed and interrupted 
each other in their guesses about the place to which 
they were going. 

“ It would be just like Father to take us to Alaska — 
or Hawaii,” said Ruthie. “ But of course we can’t 
be going very far, because we have only two weeks 
vacation, and we’ve got to get there and back.” 

“ I’d hate to spend the whole vacation on a train,” 
Moya said. “ Still — I’ll trust your family, Ruthie.” 

As they stood waiting in the station, they caught 
sight of a girl coming towards them. 

“ Isn’t she pretty? ” Peg said, and Ruthie and Moya 
turned. 

She was about their age, a slender girl, with short 


THE HOUSE PARTY 


171 

curly red hair that clustered about her ears, and clung 
in little tendrils to the rolling brim of her soft gray 
hat. Her suit was of orange jersey, and a light gray 
muffler, embroidered with woolen flowers, hung loosely 
about her neck. 

“ Awfully pretty,” Ruthie agreed. 

“ Why, she’s going up to your mother! ” said Moya. 
“ I wonder — ” 

“ I’ll bet it’s my cousin,” said Ruthie. They hur- 
ried over to join Mrs. Blake, and the strange girl had 
already placed her bags with the others and was being 
introduced to the other three. 

“ You’re Ruthie! ” the girl accused, turning to her. 

“ Yes. You’re Peri Harrington? ” 

She nodded. “ I knew you, because you look ex- 
actly like a picture your mother sent me ages ago 
when you were only a kid.” 

“ Really? ” 

They stood looking at each other shyly. 

“ I’d just about forgotten I had a cousin,” Ruthie 
said. “ When Mother said you were coming, I was the 
most surprised girl in Holloway.” 

“ 1 hadn’t forgotten,” Peri answered. “ You see, I 
don’t know many girls. Father used to run a boys’ 
school in South America, and since we’ve come to the 


172 RUTH IE 

States, I haven’t had much chance to make friends.” 

Ruthie’s face lighted, and she took her cousin’s hand 
impulsively. “ I know just how you feel, then,” she 
said. “ I had never had any friends at all until we 
came to Holloway.” 

“ Ruthie, you have the most wandering family,” 
Moya said. “ It must be in the blood.” 

“ I guess it is,” Ruthie admitted. “ But I haven’t 
any of it. I’d like to stay in Holloway with you all 
until I’m a feeble old woman.” 

“ And I’d just as soon live on an ant-hill, if only I 
felt it was mine and I could stay there,” said Peri. 

“All of which is very interesting,” announced Mr. 
Blake, “ but trains wait for no man, and it’s eleven 
o’clock by my watch and chain.” 

They picked up their bags, and hurried to the train, 
climbed aboard and found seats together. 

“ What are you looking for, Moya? ” Ruthie asked, 
as she saw her friend peeking about curiously. 

“ Tickets,” Moya answered. “ I want to do some 
Sherlock-Holmesing and find out where we’re going.” 

Mrs. Blake waved a handful of tickets teasingly. 
“ You won’t know until you see the station,” she said. 
“ It’s a four-hour trip, and I want you to have some- 
thing to talk about on the way.” 


THE HOUSE PARTY 


173 

They watched the shifting landscape through the 
train windows curiously. 

“ I think this is the way you go to Weston,” said 
Amy suddenly. “ I’m sure the Weston trains turn off 
this way.” 

“ We’re not going to Weston,” Mrs. Blake said, 
smiling. 

Holloway was left far behind, and until they had 
finished luncheon, the car windows showed nothing but 
green fields and tawny meadows. Then suddenly 
Moya squealed. 

“The sea! ” she said. “Look, girls! ” 

They crowded to the windows, and surely enough, 
the ocean stretched out along the horizon. 

“One hour more,” Ruthie wailed. “Mother, I’m 
dying of curiosity.” 

“ Well, since you don’t know one place from another 
in this part of the country,” Mr. Blake rejoined, “ I 
don’t see that it’s frightfully important.” 

The train plunged on, heedless of their curiosity. 
Then Mr. Blake began reaching for the bags, heaping 
them in the aisles. 

“ Next station,” he said briefly, and they pulled 
on their hats and coats, chattering and conjecturing 
gaily. 


174 


RUTH IE 


“ Next station — Foxport! Foxport next! Fo-o-ox- 
po-o-ort! ” boomed the conductor. 

“ Foxport ! ” said Moya excitedly. “ Well, of all 
things ! ” 

“ Why? ” Ruthie demanded. 

“ Tommy’s down here visiting Jack Sibley — he’s 
having a house party, too.” 

Tommy was Moya’s brother. He had been 
away at boarding school during the winter, and as he 
had visited one of his friends during Christmas vaca- 
tion, Ruthie had not met him. 

“ Jack Sibley! ” Ruthie said. “Did you know the 
Sibleys were here, Mother? ” 

Mrs. Blake nodded, smiling. “ Mrs. Sibley told us 
about Foxport,” she said. “ Our house is quite near 
theirs.” 

The train jerked into the station, and they piled 
out, amid a confusion of baggage, waited at the plat- 
form while Mr. Blake found an automobile, and they 
crowded in, sitting on each other’s laps and on the 
floor of the car. 

The sun was behind them as the car moved forward. 

“We’re going east! ” Aileen Carter said. “We’re 
going to the shore.” 


THE HOUSE PARTY 


175 

“ Correct,” said Mr. Blake. “ You’ll hear the waves 
soon.” 

The automobile turned down a narrow, shaded road, 
and before them, they heard the rumble and pounding 
of waves on the beach. They stopped abruptly before 
a large white house, and as they climbed out and 
walked up the little hill to the piazza, they saw the sea 
stretching out endlessly beyond a clump of trees. 

“ I’m going to take stock of you now,” Mrs. Blake 
announced, as they entered the large sunny living- 
room. “ How many of you are there? ” 

“ Lady, we are seven,” announced Rose Delain. 

“ Well, there are five bedrooms,” said Mrs. Blake. 
“ One for Mr. Blake and myself leaves four for the 
rest of you. Who’ll double up? ” 

“ Moya and I,” said Peg. 

“ Rose and me,” said Aileen. 

“ Peri’ll come in with me, won’t you? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ Which leaves poor little Amy all alone,” announced 
Amy. 

“ That’s quite as it should be,” Mrs. Blake said, 
smiling. “ Amy, you’re sixteen, and accordingly older 
and wiser than these children. I’ll appoint you guard 
to see that they don’t burn the house down or stay up 


176 RUTHIE 

all night. Further than that, I’ll leave you quite 

alone.” 

They chose their rooms and unpacked hurriedly. 

“We have two hours before dinner,” Amy an- 
nounced, coming into Ruthie’s room, where the rest 
of the girls had congregated. “ Shall we explore? ” 

“ There’s a short-cut to the beach,” Mr. Blake said. 
“ The road winds round the other side of the Sibley 
house, but there’s a path that leads behind their barn 
that will take you there in half the time.” 

“ Fine,” Amy said, and they linked arms and walked 
down the road together, singing. 

The Sibley house was set in the middle of a large 
patch of land; there was a tennis court and a flower 
garden at one side and on the other, stretching past 
the barn and the duck-pond, were marshy meadows. 
The entire estate was enclosed by a fence, and the 
road wove around them, a hot, dusty ribbon cut be- 
tween green fields. 

“ I’m glad Father told us of this path,” said Ruthie, 
as they went through the open gate and walked, single- 
file, along the path. They passed behind the barn, 
climbed a little hill, and came in view of the beach. 

The long stretch of white sand sloped gradually to 
the water; a raft with a high diving tower rocked back 


THE HOUSE PARTY 


177 

and forth in the swaying waves, and a group of boys 
were swimming about, diving and splashing and calling 
to one another. 

“ I guess that’s Jack’s party,” said Ruthie. “ My, 
aren’t they having a good time! ” 

“ Not so good as we’re going to have,” Peri an- 
swered promptly. “ Do you suppose we have time for 
a swim before dinner? ” 

Ruthie looked at her Christmas wrist watch and 
nodded, and they ran back to the house, hurried into 
their bathing suits. 

“ My, we’re a rainbow, aren’t we? ” Amy said, laugh- 
ing, as they assembled on the piazza. They looked at 
each other and nodded. They all wore one-piece suits, 
and brilliant rubber caps, but there were no two suits 
alike; Ruthie’s was green, Peg’s, her usual scarlet, and 
Moya’s a bright turquoise blue. Amy and Rose were 
both in black, but Amy’s suit was striped with white 
and Rose’s with orange; Aileen Carter wore a light 
brown suit, and Peri was delightfully pretty in violet. 

They raced down the road and plunged into the 
water breathlessly; Ruthie struck out bravely for the 
raft, and the others followed her. 

“ Hello,” Jack Sibley said in surprise. “ Didn’t 
know you had come.” 


178 


RUTHIE 


“ We just got here,” Ruthie said. 

There were no introductions, because the boys 
slipped away from the raft, and splashed about in the 
water at a distance, watching the party of girls curi- 
ously, as they dived and swam. 

“Tommy hates girls,” Moya confided. “Look at 
him out there making faces at us ! I wish I had some- 
thing to throw at him.” 

“ What do we care? ” Aileen Carter said. “ We’ve 
got the raft, anyway.” 

They swam until they were tired, and filed back to 
the house, leaving a series of wet footprints across the 
kitchen floor and up the uncarpeted stairs. 

Dinner was a noisy and pleasant meal. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Blake,” Rose Delain would say, time 
after time, “ will you look at that perfectly scrump- 
tious view over there? ” and as Mrs. Blake turned, 
smiling, she would seize still another of the small hot 
biscuits that the maid had brought to the table. 

After dinner, the girls separated into groups; there 
was much whispering and excitement, and two by two, 
they disappeared on mysterious errands, hurried about, 
giggling, while Ruthie and Peri sat on the piazza, 
watching the last tatters of sunset fade away, and won- 
dering what it was all about. 


THE HOUSE PARTY 


179 

“Bed-time! ” Amy McBride called suddenly, and 
they trooped upstairs. 

“ I never saw a bunch of kids so anxious to go to 
bed,” said Mr. Blake. “ I wonder — ” He looked at 
his wife with twinkling eyes. 

They undressed hurriedly and sat talking for a 
long time; finally they said goodnight and went into 
their rooms. For a moment silence reigned over the 
house. Ruthie started to slip into her bed, and found 
it impossible; she could not seem to adjust the covers 
so that she could get in. Finally, in exasperation, she 
pulled off the covers, and discovered her bed made up 
with the sheets folded, bag shape, in that amazing man- 
ner, known for some reason or another, as a pie-bed. 
She looked up at Peri reproachfully and discovered her 
waving her nightgown above her head like a scare- 
crow. 

“ I can’t get into this thing, Ruthie,” she said. 
“ Whatever in the world — ” 

Ruthie giggled until she sank back on her demol- 
ished bed, weak with laughter. “ The neck and sleeves 
are sewed up ! ” she said finally. 

From the next room — Peg’s and Moya’s — came a 
frightened squeal. “A snake!” she heard Moya’s 
voice. “In my bed! Peg! ” 


180 RUTHIE 

Peri pulled on a long bathrobe and they rushed in, 
and found Moya waving a long piece of seaweed above 
her head. 

“ Who put that in my bed! Of all things! Ruthie 
Blake, did you — ” 

“ Honest, I didn’t,” Ruthie said. “ But our room 
was just the same.” 

They hurried accusingly into the room shared by 
Rose and Aileen, and found that they, wiser in the 
ways of house parties, had stripped back the sheets 
and blankets before going to bed, and had shaken 
on the floor the seaweed and stones that lay hid- 
den. 

“ Someone planned to murder me, all right,” Peg 
accused. “ I put my head on my pillow and whack! 
There was a big board in it! ” 

They looked up as they heard a giggle, and Amy 
McBride, in a pink kimona, was peering about the edge 
of the door at them. 

“ Children! ” she reproved in a shocked voice, and 
ducked to avoid the bombardment of pillows that were 
hurled at her head. 

Finally they got to bed again, and the house was 
quiet. Then from Amy’s room came a squeal and a 
thumping. 


THE HOUSE PARTY 181 

“ Who filled my bed with rice? ” demanded Amy’s 
voice. 

Again the girls scrambled from their covers and 
pulled on bathrobes. 

“ I didn’t, honestly,” Moya said. “ Peg and I fixed 
Ruthie’s room, but that’s absolutely all.” 

“ And we went in Moya’s room,” Rose Delain said. 
“ Honestly, Amy.” 

“ Ruthie, you did it! ” 

“ I didn’t,” Ruthie answered. “ Truly I didn’t. 
Peri and I had never heard of such things. You must 
have done it yourself by mistake, Amy.” 

“ I did not. Which one of you, now? ” 

Finally Amy was convinced, and they stood staring 
at each other when from Mrs. Blake’s room sounded 
an amused laugh. Their eyes widened as they lis- 
tened. 

“ I’ll bet my mother did it! ” said Ruthie. “ Mother 
Blake—” 

Mrs. Blake appeared, laughing, in the hallway. 

“ That for you, Amy,” she said. “ I didn’t see any 
reason for your going unpunished. And you’ll prob- 
ably never get all the rice out of your bed.” 

This time, the house settled into a quiet that lasted 
until morning. The first day of vacation was ended. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WAR 


NYONE would think you hadn’t eaten more 



-Cjl than twenty-seven biscuits last night, Rose 
Delain,” said Amy, “ to see the way you’re punishing 
that toast! ” 

“ Huh ! ” Rose snorted, reaching defiantly for an- 
other slice, “ People who live in glass houses ! And 
anyway, you ate the rice all night long, didn’t you? ” 
Amy looked at Mrs. Blake and smiled. “ There was 
a pound or so in my bed, I must admit,” she said. 

They laughed, and Ruthie looked about the table 
happily. “ My, it’s fun to have you all here! ” she 
said. “ What shall we do today? ” 

“ Let’s just wander and explore,” Amy suggested. 
“ It’s nine o’clock now — who knows what may happen 
between now and lunch? Come along.” 

They picked up their sweaters, and started down the 
road together, the three chums and Peri leading, Aileen 
and Rose and Amy with linked arms behind. 

It was a warm day and they wandered lazily, tak- 


WAR 183 

ing any road that seemed pleasant, since they did not 
know where any of them led. 

“ Right! Right! Right from the country — hay- 
foot, straw-foot — Whoop, by jingoes — left! ” chanted 
Amy. 

And — “Left! Left! Left my wife with forty-nine 
children — Whoop, by jingoes — right! ” Moya took up 
the refrain. 

They marched along keeping step, until suddenly 
Amy broke out in the middle of the chant, “ Ship 
ahoy! Halt and left face! Excitement ahead! At- 
tention! ” 

They stopped, laughing, and turned about to face 
a small, weather-beaten gray house, surrounded by a 
crowd of people. A red flag was fluttering in the 
breeze, and there was a murmur of voices. 

“Scarlet fever! ” said Peg. 

“Scarlet fever, my eye! ” Aileen Carter retorted. 
“ IPs a country auction.” 

As they looked, they distinguished the auctioneer 
from the group, a short man with reddish whiskers, 
and a silk hat tilted on one side of his bald head. 
With one accord, they swung about and entered the 
yard through the creaking wooden gate, joined the 
crowd. 


RUTHIE 


184 

“ Tommy McMahon!” Moya exclaimed, as she 
caught sight of her brother, talking with a group of 
boys. 

“ H’lo, Sis,” Tommy answered laconically, and 
turned his attention to more important things. 

Jack Sibley waved, and the other boys looked up 
curiously. 

“ I wonder what they’re doing here,” Moya said. 

“ Probably that’s just what they’re wondering about 
us,” Amy answered. “ However, let’s see what’s up.” 

They scattered, walking about the yard looking at 
the old furniture and bits of china and glass that were 
to be auctioned. 

“ Moya! ” Ruthie called suddenly. “Look what 
I’ve found! ” She held up a long sword triumphantly. 
The girls crowded about her, looking at the engraved 
blade, at the heavy hilt with the grooved wood where 
Ruthie’s fingers grasped it. “ I think it’s a Revolu- 
tionary sword,” she continued. “ Father’s collect- 
ing them, you know. He has a whole roomful — 
things he’s bought all over the world. I’m going to 
buy this for him.” 

They waited, while piece after piece of furniture was 
put up and sold. Finally the auctioneer reached out, 
and took the sword. 


WAR 


185 

“ This here piece of metal is a relic/’ he announced 
in his loud voice. “ Ben in the Hopkins family sence 
Adam ’n’ Eve. Don’t know how many wars it’s done 
service in. What am I offered for the antique sword? ” 

“ Fifty cents,” called a voice. 

“A dollar.” Ruthie turned in surprise, as Jack 
Sibley’s voice rang out. 

“A dollar and a half! ” Ruthie called excitedly. 

“ Dollar seventy-five.” The voice that had first 
spoken said. 

“Two dollars! ” It was Jack. 

“ Three dollars ! ” said Ruthie. 

“Three dollars and a quarter! ” It was between 
Ruthie and Jack, now; she glanced over at him and 
smiled. 

“Three dollars and a half! ” she called. 

“Three seventy-five! ” 

“Four!” screamed Ruthie. There was silence. 
“Four and a quarter! ” she added, and there was 
laughter as the people realized that she had raised her 
own bid. 

“ Four dollars and a quarter I am offered,” said the 
auctioneer. “ Only four dollars and a quarter for this 
splendid old sword — ben through hundreds of wars. 
Only four dollars and a — 


i86 


RUTHIE 


“ Four dollars and a quarter I have,” he repeated. 
“ Do I hear four-seventy-five? ” He looked at Jack 
inquiringly. “ Do I hear four-seventy-five. Only four- 
seventy-five? Only four-seventy-five for the antique 
sword? ” 

“ Five dollars.” 

Ruthie drew a deep breath. “ Five dollars and 
twenty-five cents,” she announced firmly. 

“ Five dollars and a quarter bid — do I hear a half? ” 
The silk hat slipped further over one ear as the auc- 
tioneer bent his head to look through the crowd at 
Jack. “ Five dollars and a quarter — do I hear a 
half? ” Ruthie’s heart pounded as she waited; then 
Jack shook his head slowly. “ Five dollars and a quar- 
ter? Five dollars and a quarter. Going — going — do I 
hear a half? No? Five dollars and a quarter. Going 
— going — gone to the young lady over there in the 
yellow sweater for five dollars and a quarter.” 

The color swept over Ruthie’s face as she hurried 
up to give her name. 

“ Have you that much, Ruthie? ” Moya asked anx- 
iously. 

Ruthie’s face fell. “ I never thought of that,” she 
said. She pulled her pocketbook out of her sweater 
anxiously. “ Only three dollars ! ” she said. 


WAR 


187 


“ I have fifty cents,” Moya offered. 

“ I have — thirty-nine,” said Peg, giving it to her. 

“ I think I have some money,” Peri added. The 
seven girls poured the contents of their pocketbooks 
into Ruthie’s outstretched hand. Six dollars and four 
cents! 

“ We’re rich ! ” Peri said, laughing. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad,” Ruthie breathed. She paid the 
cashier and took up the heavy sword gratefully. 

“ We’ll all give it to Mr. Blake,” said Moya. “ It’ll 
be our present to him.” 

“Fine! ” said Ruthie. “Oh, Father’ll like that, I 
know.” The group of boys were staring at them 
stonily. 

“ Don’t know what a bunch of silly girls wants with 
a sword! ” Tommy McMahon said scornfully. 

“They’re pigs — that’s what they are! ” one of the 
other boys agreed. 

Ruthie tossed her head. 

“ Never you mind, Ruthie,” said Moya. “ If they 
had it, they’d play with it for a time ar.d then they’d 
lose it. Boys always lose everything.” 

“ I do want it for Father,” Ruthie said. 

“ Of course,” Amy McBride agreed. “ I’m awfully 
glad you got it. Let’s go along now.” 


RUTH IE 


m 

“Wait just a minute,” Peri begged. “We have 
seventy-nine cents left and there’s the darlingest little 
toy bureau for sale. One of them just sold for fifty 
cents, and I’d like to get this one to keep my jewelry 
in.” 

While they waited, the boys watched them hostilely 
mumbling and whispering among themselves. Finally 
the little bureau was put up. 

“ Twenty-five cents,” Peri called. 

There was silence. Evidently no one else wanted it. 

“Twenty-five cents for the little toy bureau,” an- 
nounced the auctioneer, holding it out to Peri. “ Going 
—going— go— ” 

“Fifty cents! ” Peri turned in surprise, as one of 
the boys spoke. The color came into her cheeks. 

“ Seventy-five cents,” she said. 

“ A dollar.” 

Peri was silent. “ Going — going — gone to the young 
man for a dollar.” 

The boys laughed, and Peri looked at them angrily. 
“ Let’s go,” she said. They filed out angrily, the laugh- 
ter of the boys following them. 

“ Oh, I think they’re the meanest things! ” Peg said. 
“ As if they wanted that bureau. I think they’re per- 
fectly horrid.” 


WAR 


189 


“ So do I,” said Peri. “ They—” 

They jumped at a sudden noise behind them, and 
the boys sped past on bicycles, one of them waving 
the toy bureau in his hand. A little farther up the 
road they came upon the bureau, broken into small 
pieces and heaped ostentatiously in the middle of the 
road. Peri picked up the fragments and looked at 
them ruefully. 

“ The mean things ! ” Ruthie said. 

“ I hate boys, anyway,” said Moya indignantly. “ I 
think they’re the horridest things in the world.” 

, “ ‘ Snakes and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails — that’s 
what little boys are made of! ’ ” quoted Amy. 

They walked the rest of the way silently, burning 
with indignation. 

“ Where’s Father? ” Ruthie called, as they swung 
open the door. He was in the living-room, and his 
face lighted with pleasure as he took the sword. 

“I say, Ruthie, that’s a peach! ” he said apprecia- 
tively. “ It’s much better than the one of that period 
I have. Do you mind if I ask how much you paid 
for it? ” 

“ Five dollars and a quarter,” Ruthie replied. 

“ Five dollars and — ” Mr. Blake burst into laugh- 
ter. “ Ruth Blake, do you mean to say you paid — ” 


190 RUTHIE 

“ Was it too much? ” Moya asked anxiously. 

“ Too much! ” Mr. Blake repeated. “ I paid thirty 
dollars for one I have that isn’t nearly so good. I’m 
more grateful than I can say to you girls.” 

“ I’m awfully glad, Father.” 

“ I wonder if those boys knew,” Peri said. 

“ What boys? ” 

They told him about the other house party and Mr. 
Blake grunted. “ This is too valuable a sword for 
kids to have just to play with,” he said. “ Sorry it 
had to happen that way, though.” 

He bore his present upstairs to show to his wife, 
and he spent the entire afternoon, quite like a small 
boy with a new toy, cleaning and polishing it, fondling 
it. 

The girls had decided to say nothing about the little 
bureau; they were going to attend to that affair them- 
selves. And when they got into their bathing suits and 
walked down the road to the beach, their resolve was 
strengthened. 

At the short-cut, they found the gate locked, and a 
large sign: NO TRESPASSING. The boys had turned 
the bull out into the field, and he raised his head and 
looked inquiringly at Peg’s red sweater. 

“ Oh, I hate boys! ” Moya said again. 


WAR 191 

They took the long, hot road, and finally reached the 
beach. 

“ I’m beginning to get mad, too,” Amy said sud- 
denly. “ Look what they’ve done! ” 

The boys were sitting on the raft, watching them, 
and the raft had been pulled out to the very end of 
its rope, a long, long swim from shore. 

“Huh! ” said Peri. She dived into the water and 
swam out toward the raft; the other girls did not dare 
attempt the long swim, and they stood on the beach, 
watching her. Her yellow cap shone on the waves, 
farther and farther from shore. 

“ She’s almost there! ” said Ruthie. “ My, she’s a 
good swimmer! ” 

They watched silently for another minute. “ Where’s 
she going? ” Amy asked suddenly. 

Peri had passed the raft and was swimming steadily 
toward the horizon. 

“ She’ll be drowned! ” Moya said. The boys on the 
raft turned, as Peri continued her course. When she 
had gone nearly twice as far as the raft she turned 
back. The boys and the girls on the shore watched, 
with bated breath, as she turned. She dived down into 
the water, like a porpoise, came up, shaking the water 
from her yellow cap; first her bare feet appeared, pro- 


192 RUTHIE 

jecting straight out of the waves, then her head. She 
changed her stroke to the “ crawl for a moment she 
tore through the water like a motor-boat, tossing up 
two lines of white spray. She swam on her back, on 
her side. As she reached the raft, she climbed up, 
ignoring the boys as though they were not there. 

“ She must be tired,” said Amy. “ I’m glad she’s 
resting.” 

“ Resting! ” scoffed Ruthie. 

Peri had climbed to the top of the diving tower; 
she turned, and leaped into the air in a graceful back- 
ward dive. Then, after an interminable length of time 
while she was hidden beneath the waves, her head ap- 
peared, a long distance from the raft, and she swam 
back to the beach. 

“ Peri, you’re a wonder! ” said Amy. 

“ Swimming’s one thing I can do,” Peri said quietly. 
“ Those boys make me tired.” 

They walked back to the house along the road, proud 
of Peri, yet still indignant with the boys. 

“ How would you like to have your supper on the 
beach tomorrow night? ” Mrs. Blake asked them, at 
dinner. “ Mr. Blake and I are going over to the Sib- 
leys’, and we thought that you and the boys could have 
a picnic together.” 


WAR 


193 


The girls were silent for a moment. 

“We — we’d rather have the picnic by ourselves, 1 ” 
said Ruthie. 

“ Have you asked the boys yet? ” Amy asked. 

“ No. But I think it would be nice for you to get 
acquainted. They seem a nice lot of boys.” Mrs. 
Blake looked at them curiously. 

“ We’d love to have a picnic,” Moya said. “ But I 
think it would be more fun with just us.” 

“You funny children! ” Mrs. Blake said, smiling. 
“All right, then.” 

After dinner they talked it over among them- 
selves. 

“ We don’t want to bother Mrs. Blake with our 
fight,” Amy said. “ And she’ll be sure to find out. 
We may as well ask the boys — there’s no use in spoil- 
ing our whole vacation with a quarrel.” 

“ After all, if we made up, we could have the raft 
and the short-cut and everything,” Peg said. “ Let’s.” 

“ All right,” Ruthie said finally. “ But if they’re 
horrid — ” 

“ I don’t believe they will be,” Amy said. 

“And I’m sort of sorry about the sword,” said 
Ruthie. “ I suppose they do think we started it — that 
we did it just to be mean. We may as well explain it 


194 RUTHIE 

to them — they’ll understand when they know Father 

is collecting them.” 

In the morning, when the girls set out for the beach, 
they stopped at the Sibley house with their invitation, 
left it on the hall table for the boys, who had already 
gone out. 


CHAPTER XV 
AND PEACE 


HEY worked steadily throughout the entire morn- 



JL ing. First of all, under Amy’s direction, they 
chose a large rock against which to build their fire- 
place; then came the long, tiresome labor of digging 
a hollow in the coarse sand, and piling heavy stones 
about the edge as a barrier from the wind. Amy and 
Rose took charge, while Aileen and Ruthie obeyed 
their orders; Peri and Moya and Peg scattered about 
the beach, collecting driftwood, which they piled in a 
heap until there was enough to keep the fire burning 
for several hours. 

“ Now let’s get some flat rocks for tables,” said Rose. 

They pushed and strained until they had loosened 
five large rocks from the sand, and they rolled them 
to the circle about the fireplace. It was nearly noon 
when they completed their work, and they looked at 
the result triumphantly. 

The sand had been cleaned of seaweed and wood 
about the fireplace; the pile of kindling towered against 


195 


196 RUTHIE 

the great rock, and the flat table-stones were set se- 
curely in the clearing. . 

“ We’ll bring down steamer rugs to sit on,” Amy 
said. “ My, isn’t it going to be fun! ” 

“ I don’t see how you knew what to do,” Ruthie 
said. “ With you and Rose to help us, I’m sure we 
wouldn’t suffer on a desert-island.” 

“ We’ve been camping together,” Amy said. “ Wait 

/ 

till you see how well this fireplace is going to burn. 
We’d better bring hundreds of potatoes.” 

“ I’m glad it’s finished, though,” said Rose, looking 
ruefully at her hands. “ Seven cuts, one bruise, two 
blisters! I wouldn’t do it again for a million dollars.” 

“ And look at my scratches! ” Peri said, holding out 
her hands for inspection. “ My, I’m tired! ” 

They smiled happily. 

“ I say it’s time to go home for lunch,” said Aileen. 
“ I’m simply starving.” 

“ So’m I.” They picked up their sweaters, and 
started toward the road. 

“Why, there are the boys! ” Peg exclaimed. She 
waved, and the other girls turned and caught sight of 
the boys peeking at them over the sandbanks. 

“ I wonder if they’ve got our note yet? ” said Ruthie. 


AND PEACE 


197 

She made a trumpet of her hands. “ Come along 
down! ” she shouted. 

They disappeared instantly behind the bank, and 
Ruthie looked after them curiously. 

“ Funny they didn’t come and help us,” Amy said. 
“ I wonder how long they’ve been there watching us.” 

“ It is funny,” agreed Rose. “ Perhaps they haven’t 
been home yet to get the letter.” 

They stood looking at the deserted sandbank for a 
moment, and then Amy shrugged her shoulders. 
“ They’ll get the letter when they go home for lunch, 
anyway,” she said. “ Come along.” 

They turned back to the road, and just as they 
passed the corner they saw the boys again, climbing 
stealthily over the sandbanks to the beach. 

“ Those boys are certainly acting strangely,” said 
Amy. 

“ Maybe they’re going to get more wood,” Ruthie 
suggested. 

“ Maybe. Let’s hope so.” 

After luncheon, they sat on the piazza and talked 
for a few minutes; then they started again for the 
beach, with their first load of blankets and pillows. 
They were going back for the supper later, but Amy 


198 RUTHIE 

wanted to see that everything was ready. As they 
reached the beach, they again saw the boys, hiding on 
the bank. Again the boys slid down until they were 
almost out of sight; Ruthie could see only a flash of 
Tommy McMahon’s green sweater through the trees. 

“ What are they up to? ” Amy said. “ I wish they 
wouldn’t act so strangely. Perhaps — ” She stopped 
abruptly, as they reached the beach. “ Oh, lord! ” 
she said, and stared straight ahead. 

The seven girls stopped short, following her eyes. 

“Oh-h-h-h! ” said Peri. “ How perfectly awful! ” 

“ Oh ! ” Ruthie said, drawing her breath, her eyes 
dark with anger. 

The pile of driftwood had been scattered over the 
beach; it was floating and bobbing in the water. The 
flat stones that they had collected so painfully for 
their tables had been rolled away. And the fireplace! 

“ Oh, Amy! ” Rose wailed. “ Look at that fire- 
place! ” 

The hollow that they had dug so carefully, break- 
ing their finger-nails and bruising their hands in the 
work, had been filled with stones and sand and sea- 
weed; the wall of rocks had been rolled away; their 
entire morning’s work was destroyed and ruined. 

“You wait till I get hold of Tommy McMahon! ” 


AND PEACE 


199 

Moya said indignantly. “ Oh, won’t I beat him for 
this! ” 

“ Jack Sibley! ” said Ruthie. “ To think that he’d 
have done that! ” 

They stared at each other in dismay; suddenly Moya 
started angrily toward the sandbank. 

“ No, wait a minute,” Amy said, catching her 
arm. 

“ I suppose it’s all over that sword! ” said Ruthie. 
“ Oh, dear—” 

“ It’s a fight, all right,” Amy said thoughtfully. 
“ And we’ve got to punish them for it. But we won’t 
get anywhere by running after them, Moya. They’re 
stronger than we are^-just think, they made all this 
ruin in the short time we were gone! We’ve got to use 
strategy.” 

“ I don’t want to use strategy! ” Moya insisted. “ I 
want to whack my brother over the head with a stick! ” 

Rose laughed. “ Amy’s right,” she said. “ Let’s sit 
down right here this minute and hold a council of war. 
Amy, you’re general.” 

“ You’re aide,” responded Amy quickly. They sat 
in a circle, and looked toward her questioningly. 

“ Of course the first thing to find out is why they 
did it,” said Amy. 


200 RUTHIE 

Moya snorted. “ They did it just because they’re 
hateful, mean boys,” she said. 

Rose smiled. “ Not necessarily,” she said. “ They 
probably think they have something to quarrel about. 
They — ” She paused, and the others followed her eyes. 

A man was coming down the slope of the sandbank; 
he reached the group, and gave a slip of paper to Jack. 
The others crowded around, and peered over his shoul- 
der; then they turned and glanced toward the circle 
of girls. 

“I’ll bet that’s my note! ” Ruthie said. “They 
probably haven’t been home to get it, and that man 
just brought it down.” 

/ Amy nodded. “ That’s probably it,” she said. 
“ Now, am I general of this war, or am I not? ” 

“ You are, Amy.” 

“ And will you obey me absolutely? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Good.” Amy looked at them sharply. “ I’m goin$ 
up and ask them to come down, and you’re not one 
of you to let on that you know they did it.” 

“ Oh, Amy — ” Aileen Carter began. 

“ They deserve to be punished,” said Moya. 
“They’ll be punished, all right,” Amy answered. 
“ Remember — this is strategy. And I’m general.” 


AND PEACE 


201 


“ All right,” Moya said doubtfully. “ But they 
ought to suffer.” 

“ They’ll suffer,” Amy said grimly. “ But there’s 
no use in our suffering, too. I want to have a nice 
party tonight. Come along with me.” 

She led the way across the beach to where the boys 
were waiting. This time they did not hide, and they 
looked up sheepishly, as the girls reached them. 

“ I just got your letter, Ruthie,” Jack said. His 
face was scarlet and he looked uncomfortable. 

“ Did you? ” Ruthie asked sweetly. “ I thought 
you’d get it earlier. I’m sorry.” 

Moya glared at her small brother and Amy shook 
her head warningly. “ Be careful, Moya,” she whis- 
pered. 

“ I — I don’t know whether we can come or not,” 
Jack said. “ Er — have you — been down to the beach 
yet? ” 

“ Yes,” Ruthie said. “ We’ve — ” She hesitated. 

“ It’s the strangest thing,” Amy McBride inter- 
rupted. “ We’ve been working all morning getting 
ready, and we just came down with the first load of 
stuff. And we discovered that the waves or something 
had come up and ruined everything. All our wood was 
washed away, and our fireplace is ruined.” 


202 


RUTHIE 


“ That’s — that’s too bad/’ said Jack. Ruthie felt 
almost sorry for him, as she looked at his red face, and 
watched him twisting the letter in his hands. 

“ The tide was pretty high today,” Tommy McMa- 
hon said, and Moya looked at him disgustedly. 

Suddenly Jack’s face brightened. “ Say, we’ll help 
you build a new fireplace, won’t we, gang? ” 

“ Sure.” The boys seemed to welcome his sugges- 
tion with alacrity; it was as though a great load had 
been lifted from them. 

“ That would be awfully nice,” said Amy. “ We 
were quite disappointed that all our work had been 
done for nothing.” 

“ Although of course we could have got it ready 
again in a few minutes,” Rose Delain added, with 
twinkling eyes. 

Then followed half an hour in which the seven 
girls did not dare look at each other for fear of burst- 
ing into laughter. Aileen Carter would pick up a small 
stick to add to the rapidly increasing pile of kindling 
beside the fireplace which Jack Sibley and Alan Dupont 
were building afresh, and Tommy McMahon, or one 
of the Evans twins, would hurry towards her, saying, 
“ Oh, let me carry that for you! ” Ruthie began roll- 
ing a flat stone towards the group, and Mark Riley, 


AND PEACE 203 

the sixth of the boys, pushed her away in horror; 
George Wood, the seventh and last of the other house 
party, ran about helping the girls carry the pillows 
from place to place, spreading the blankets, doing 
everything, in fact, that he could think of. 

“ It’s just like having seven slaves, isn’t it? ” Peri 
whispered to Rose Delain, and they giggled. 

“ I feel exactly like Simon Legree,” Amy admitted. 
“ I’ve never seen seven boys work harder.” 

Although the boys had believed Amy, when she said 
she thought the waves had destroyed their morning’s 
work, they were none the less anxious to make up for 
their mischief, and they toiled ceaselessly, finding all 
sorts of things to do. In a short time a larger and bet- 
ter fireplace was completed, and everything was ready 
for the picnic. 

The boys refused to let the girls walk to the house 
for the baskets. 

“ We’ll run and get them if you’ll tell us where they 
are,” Alan Dupont said. 

“ Of course it won’t take you as long as it would 
take us,” Amy said. “ You don’t have to go ’round by 
the road.” 

Jack Sibley flushed. “ Neither do you,” he said. 
“ I’m sorry about the old sign.” 


204 


RUTH IE 


“ The sign didn’t bother us any/’ Rose said, smiling. 
“ But I’ll admit that we weren’t crazy about the bull. 
There’s something about bulls that has always made me 
mistrust them.” 

“ Maybe it’s their horns,” one of the Evans twins 
suggested, and they laughed. 

All the boys went to get the baskets, and the girls 
looked at one another and smiled. 

“ Don’t you think strategy’s better? ” Amy asked. 
“ We’ll have our nice picnic, and we don’t have to do 
a blessed bit of work.” 

“ It’s lots better, Amy,” said Moya. “ Three cheers 
for General McBride! ” 

“ And they’re nice boys,” said Rose, “ even if they 
were horrid.” 

They spread out the sandwiches and cakes, and 
when the boys returned, Jack lighted the fire, while 
Tommy unpacked the basket of potatoes and buried 
them in the ashes. 

“ You’re some swimmer! ” Jack Sibley said to Peri. 
“ Where’d you learn? ” 

“ In South America.” Peri’s eyes danced. “ You 
have to be a pretty good swimmer to reach the raft 
down here.” 


AND PEACE 205 

“ We’ll pull it in tomorrow,” Tommy McMahon 
said, and Moya looked at him in surprise. Her broth- 
er’s eyes were round with admiration of Peri; he 
watched everything she did. Tommy had always liked 
swimming, and had even won one or two cups for 
dashes and diving, but he was a mere beginner com- 
pared with Peri. “ I wish you’d teach me that fast 
stroke of yours,” he said. 

“ I’d love to,” Peri answered. “ All you need is 
practice — it’s awfully easy.” 

“ Aren’t those potatoes most done, Jack? ” Ruthie 
asked suddenly. “ I’m starving.” 

They pulled the potatoes from the fire and ate them 
ravenously; the picnic went on merrily. It was grow- 
ing dark when they finished, and they made torches of 
great bunches of straw and paper, tossed them, flam- 
ing, on the water, where they floated for a moment 
before they sunk into the dark waves. Jack waved 
his blazing stick at a passing coal-barge, and the boat 
signalled in return, with red and green lights. 

“You must come over and see Father’s collection 
of swords, Jack,” Ruthie said suddenly. “ He’s sent 
for them, and they’ll be down here in a day or two.” 

Jack looked at her for a moment, and in the light 


206 RUTHIE 

of the fire, Ruthie could see the color flow into his face. 

“ Was that what you bought that sword for? ” he 
demanded. 

“ Of course,” Ruthie said innocently. “ You didn’t 
think I wanted it, did you? ” 

“ No. I — ” He hesitated. 

“ We thought you bought it just to be mean,” said 
one of the Evans twins, and Jack flushed again. 

“ We were awfully silly,” he said. 

“ Does your mother collect bureaus? ” Peri asked, 
but as Jack winced, she felt instantly sorry. “ It’s all 
right,” she said. “ I know how you felt.” 

“ I am sorry,” he admitted. “ But we thought — 
you see — ” 

“ Oh, well,” Amy interrupted. “ You’ve got to 
have one fight to be real friends. It’s over now. We 
won’t quarrel any more, will we? ” 

“ You bet we won’t.” 

They smiled at one another across the fire. 

“ This is the fire of peace,” Jack said suddenly. 
“ It’s been an awfully nice picnic.” 

At the edge of the beach, they saw Mr. and Mrs. 
Blake with the Sibleys. 

“ Ready to come home, kids? ” Mr. Blake called. 
But they came down on the sand and joined the party, 


AND PEACE 207 

sat with them about the fire until late, telling stories 
and talking. 

“ We’ll see you on the beach in the morning, won’t 
we? ” Jack asked Ruthie. 

Ruthie nodded. “ Yes. I’m awfully glad we’re 
friends, now.” 

He held out his hand, and she shook it solemnly. 

They all walked along the short-cut together. 
“ Goodnight! ” the boys called, as they turned up the 
path to the Sibley house. 

“ Goodnight! ” 

They discovered suddenly that they were sleepy, as 
they climbed the steps of their own house. 

“ My, this is a nice vacation,” Aileen Carter said, 
yawning. 

“ Sleepyhead! ” said Rose. “ Isn’t it, though? ” 

“ And I think it’s going to be lots nicer now that 
we have the boys to play with,” Amy announced. 
“ We’ll have lots of fun together.” 

“ Yes. Goodnight, General McBride.” 

“ Goodnight.” 

They kissed, and hurried into their rooms, fell asleep 
almost as soon as they touched their beds. 


CHAPTER XVI 


ALLIES 


HE next morning Jack did not appear on the 



A beach, and the boys were mysterious concerning 
his whereabouts, but in the afternoon they all came 
together to the Blake house, and Jack held out a box 
to Peri. 

“ Thought you might want this,” he said diffidently. 
He turned to Ruthie as Peri fumbled with the string. 
“ Want to play tennis? ” 

Peri, taking a small toy bureau from the box, inter- 
rupted them. “ Oh, Jack! ” she said, “it’s a perfect 
darling ! It’s much prettier than the other one. Thank 
you ever so much.” 

They smiled shyly; they did not say anything more, 
but they realized that it was the final pipe of peace. 
Jack’s apology had been given and accepted, and war 
was at an end; the two house parties had changed 
from enemies to allies. 

They went together to the Sibley tennis court, and 
played until luncheon. The five boys and girls who 
were not playing sat on the grass, teasing and laughing, 
praising and cheering the players. 


ALLIES 


209 


“ We’re going fishing this afternoon,” George Wood 
said. “ Do you want to come? ” 

Tommy McMahon looked rather as though he hoped 
they would refuse, but they accepted with alacrity, 
and proved, during the trip, how quiet seven girls can 
be when it is necessary. They caught quite as many 
fish as the boys, and they knew that girls had gone 
up in the estimation of their new friends, as they said 
goodnight. 

The days that followed were crammed with activi- 
ties; they swam and played tennis and explored the 
neighboring country; they went to a country fair to- 
gether, where Moya was inspired to tell the adven- 
ture of the Harford circus. 

The boys laughed a trifle enviously. 

“ I thought girls were afraid of elephants and things 
like that,” Mark Riley said. 

“ The trouble with you, young man,” scoffed Rose, 
“ is that you never bothered to find out anything about 
girls. We’re no more afraid than you are.” 

“ We’ll show you some day,” Moya added. 

The first week of vacation came to an end, and on 
Saturday night, the entire Blake household was in- 
vited to the Sibleys’ for supper. 

“ It looks like a barracks,” Mr. Sibley greeted them, 


210 RUTHIE 

smiling, as they piled into the dining-room, “but I 

think we can all crowd in.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Sibley were side by side at one end 
of a long table, made up of a series of tables, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Blake sat at the other end. The seven 
girls faced the seven boys. 

“ This is the noisiest meal I ever ate in my life ! ” 
Peri said exultantly. “ Oh, how I’d like to have ^uch 
a big family always! ” 

“Heavens! ” said Mrs. Blake, smiling. 

“ It’s sort of — sort of wholesale for every day,” 
Ruthie admitted. “ But I like more than one in a 
family.” 

“ Which reminds me that now is as good a time as 
any to announce that Mrs. Harrington says Peri may 
spend the summer vacation with you, Ruthie.” 

“ Oh, Mother ! ” Ruth leaned over and clasped her 
cousin’s hand. 

“ Oh, Aunt Marjorie! ” 

“Tonight,” interrupted Mr. Sibley, “is Saturday, 
and the Great White Way of Foxport is all lighted up.” 

The girls giggled as they thought of the straggling 
main street, with its post-office and three stores. 

“And there’s a moving-picture show,” said Mr. 
Blake. 


ALLIES 


21 1 


“ Yes/’ Mr. Sibley agreed. “ How would you all 
like to go to the movies? ” 

“ Fine! ” 

Mrs. Blake and Mrs. Sibley clapped their hands 
over their ears at the thunder of voices. 

“ Of course Foxport may think you’re an invading 
army, and get out their guns,” Mr. Sibley went on. 
“ But I think we’ll try it.” 

They walked along the dark, quiet road to the main 
street of the town, crowded up the stairs into the hall. 
They took up two entire rows of the theater, and the 
rest of the audience looked at them curiously. 

“ It’s a school,” one woman said finally. 

“ No, it’s a camp,” said another. 

“ If you don’t behave better than you have been, 
they’ll think it’s an insane asylum out for an airing,” 
Mr. Blake whispered to his daughter, and she giggled 
and repeated his words to Jack, who passed them in 
turn to the other boys. 

When the pictures had been reeled off, a little man 
came out on the stage. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and the two rows 
of boys and girls looked up intently. “ Tonight is 
amateur night, and we want to see what the town 
talent is like. Who will volunteer? ” 


212 RUTHIE 

There was silence for a moment; then a shambling 
boy got up and walked to the platform. For a mo- 
ment he stood, looking frightened and embarrassed; 1 
then he danced a clog-dance, cutting pigeon wings now 
and again, and twirling about like a top. The audi- 
ence applauded loudly. A girl sang “ The Last Rose 
of Summer ” in a trembling soprano voice — “ She’s a 
little mixed in her seasons,” Mr. Blake said to Ruthie 
— and a grinning boy with an accordeon followed. 
Then the house was quiet. 

The little man came out again. “ Isn’t there some- 
one else? ” he asked. 

Suddenly Peri laughed and tossed her head. Before 
anyone could stop her, she had slipped into the aisle, 
and appeared before them, laughing, on the stage. She 
did not seem in the least frightened, as she faced the 
audience. 

“ This is a South American dance,” she said. She 
tossed her sweater toward the wings, and stepped to the 
edge of the stage to talk with the woman at the piano. 
She began to play, and Peri stamped her feet, threw 
back her head, and danced as though her feet were 
winged. The audience applauded long after she had 
returned to her seat. 


ALLIES 


213 


“ Go along, boys,” Mr. Sibley whispered. “ Don’t 

be scared.” 

But the boys shook their heads. “ I think this is 
loads of fun,” Moya said. “ I’m going up.” 

“Moya! ” Ruthie caught her hand. “What are 
you going to do? ” 

Moya’s eyes danced. “I’m going to sing! So 
there! ” 

“ Everyone will leave,” Peg warned her, and Moya 
reached over and pulled her hair. She appeared on 
the stage and smiled at the audience. Ruthie had 
never heard the song before, and she shared the de- 
light of the audience. 

If no one ever marries me — 

And I don’t see why they should — 

’Cause Nurse says I’m not pretty 
And I’m seldom very good, 

Then when I get to be real old — 

Say, twenty-eight or nine — 

I’ll adopt a little orphan girl 
And bring her up as mine ! ” 

“ I should think you’d be ashamed, boys,” Mr. Sib- 
ley said again. 

“ Who says girls are scared? ” Moya demanded im- 
pertinently, as she passed them. 

“ No one else? ” the little man asked again, from the 


214 RUTHIE 

stage. There was no answer. “Very well, the last 
thing on our program is a biueberry-pie contest. You 
all know what that is — the pies will be placed on a 
table facing the audience, and when I give the signal 
you are to start. The boy who finishes his pie first wins 
this jack-knife.” 

“ Say, that’s a pretty good knife! ” Mark Riley said, 
looking at the prize the man held out. 

“ Go along, Mark,” said Jack, pushing him. “ You 
like blueberry pie.” 

“ You don’t believe I will, do you? Huh! ” Mark 
pushed past him and up the aisle, his red hair bris- 
tling. 

“ I knew they couldn’t keep Tommy away,” Moya 
said, laughing, as her brother followed. 

Four Foxport boys followed, and they stood sheep- 
ishly in line, on the stage. The pies were brought 
forth and placed before them on the table. 

“ Ready? ” asked the little man. “ One — two — 
three — go! ” 

The girls laughed until they leaned, exhausted, 
against their seats. 

“ We’ll be combing blueberry pie out of their hair 
for a week! ” Mrs. Sibley said, weak from laughter. 

“ I don’t call it eating! ” Mr. Blake objected. “ They 


ALLIES 215 

seem to be trying to see who can get the most pie over 
their faces.” 

Suddenly Mark Riley whooped and held up his 
empty pie-plate; at the same time Tommy crammed 
the last piece into his mouth. 

“ Bravo! ” shouted Mr. Sibley. 

But because the two boys had tied, Mr. Sibley in- 
sisted on the prize being given to a third boy — a Fox- 
port youth. “ I’m going to give you your prizes my- 
self,” he said. “ I want that kid to get this one — he 
was so surprised at you that he was under a handi- 
cap.” 

“ I’m glad it’s dark,” Mark Riley said as they 
walked home. “ I’d hate to have anyone really see 
me until I’ve had a bath.” 

“ Me, too,” Tommy said. 

“ We’ll give you a cake of soap for your prize,” said 
Moya, pulling his hair. 

But the prizes were knives which Mr. Sibley ordered 
from Holloway with even more blades than the one 
at the Foxport theater. 

The days of vacation hurried past; the sun seemed 
to shoot from the east to the west in little more than 
half an hour. “ We’ve hardly had breakfast before it’s 
time to go to bed again,” Ruthie complained. 


216 RUTHIE 

•' t . 

They were to return to Holloway on Sunday, and on 
Thursday Mrs. Blake announced that she was going 
to have a party for them. 

“ Let’s have a masquerade,” Peri suggested. 

On Friday they separated, pulling over the things 
in the attic trunks, sewing and pinning and cutting out. 
One by one the boys brought various pieces of sewing 
to the girls; all of them except Jack and Mark Riley 
and the Evans twins, who remained in Mrs. Sibley’s 
room in the greatest secrecy. 

Saturday night came, and the living-room of the 
house was cleared for the party. Peri dressed in a 
Spanish costume she had made out of the kitchen 
tablecloth, an old silk petticoat of Mrs. Blake’s and 
a piece of a torn lace curtain, and Ruthie tucked her 
brown hair beneath a small sailor-cap, and danced a 
horn-pipe down the stairs. She wore a middy-blouse 
and a pair of white duck trousers and with her mask 
she looked exactly like a boy. 

The living-room was empty when they came down, 
but in a few minutes they recognized Peg, in one of 
Ruthie’s Chinese coats and skirts, despite her mask. 
An old gypsy woman, with straggling white absorbent- 
cotton hair and a ragged shawl, looked like no one they 
had ever seen, and a tall young man in evening clothes, 


ALLIES 


217 

with the ends of a blond mustache showing beneath his 
mask, was as much a stranger. Rose Delain they knew 
immediately, wrapped in a sheet and pillow-case, but 
the seventh, a girl in an Oriental costume, her hair 
hidden beneath a pink veil, fastened with a string of 
pearls, was unlike Moya or Aileen or Amy. 

Two colored gentlemen, with wide red mouths, who 
looked as though they had stepped from a minstrel- 
show, came in, gesticulating and prancing about, and 
George Wood was easily recognized, as the auctioneer 
who had sold the sword and toy bureau, with his 
striped waistcoat and a silk hat cocked over one ear. 

“ We’re all here but four,” Ruthie whispered to 
Peri. “I wonder — oh, look! Peri, look! ” 

Mrs. Blake was holding open the door, laughing, and 
two absurd gray elephants lumbered through it. They 
waddled to the center of the room where they bumped 
against each other, and began a furious battle which 
lasted until the elephants themselves were as weak from 
laughter as their audience. 

“ We’ll never be able to guess who they are! ” Peri 
said. 

“ I’ll bet Jack’s in it,” said Ruthie. 

Finally everyone was recognized but the Oriental 
dancing-girl, and the elephants. Moya had proved to 


2l8 


RUTH IE 


be the young man in evening clothes; the two min- 
strels were Amy and Tommy McMahon, Aileen was 
the old woman. 

“Now, then! ” Moya said, seizing the dancing-girl 
by the hand and leading her to the elephant. “ We’re 
all here but Jack and Alan, the Evans twins and Mark.” 
She paused in surprise. “ Why, Esmeralda, you’re a 
boy! ” 

The dancing-girl wriggled awkwardly away from 
her, laughing, and it was a boy’s laugh. 

“ It’s Jack! ” Ruthie said. “ I recognize his voice. 
Jack Sibley! Take off your mask! ” 

He pulled it off, and his short hair appeared above 
the veils. “ I’m going to get out of this stuff now,” 
he said, kicking at the skirt with his slippered foot. 

“Look at his big feet! ” Moya said, laughing. 
“ Funny that we never noticed.” 

The other four boys emerged from the elephants, 
hot and perspiring. “ I feel like Jonah! ” Mark said, 
wiping his face. “ I hope the whale wasn’t as hot in- 
side as that elephant was! ” 

“ Will ice cream cool you off? ” asked Mrs. Blake. 

“You bet! ” 

The boys passed about the plates, while Mr. Blake 
stood at the table, cutting off generous portions. 



“It’s Jack,” Ruthie said 
















* *' 




* 

, 

■ i 

Cy ' 

" . 

r- . . • ; 1 

















L * 









































































ALLIES 


219 

They played games until late; finally the boys went 
home, and the girls sat down on the floor, in their cos- 
tumes, to talk over the party. 

“ Oh, how I hate to go home tomorrow! ” Peri said. 
“ Just think, I won’t see you girls again till summer.” 

“ I wish you’d come to Holloway next year,” said 
Moya. 

“ I wish I could. But Father’s school can’t be 
moved.” She sighed. 

“ Only two more months of school for us all, 
though,” Ruthie comforted. “ Then we’ll be together 
■ — because you’re all coming down to visit me some- 
times, you know.” 

“ You won’t be able to keep us away,” warned Peg. 

In the evening, they piled into the train, all four- 
teen of them, and separated at the Holloway station. 

“ It’s been such a wonderful party, Mrs. Blake,” 
Amy McBride said. 

“ And we’ve had such a wonderful time,” said Rose 
Delain. 

“ And now school,” said Moya. “ Oh, how flat and 
dull school is going to seem.” 

“ Maybe not,” Peg said. “ As we’ve remarked be- 
fore — anything may happen.” 

“ And something probably will,” said Ruthie. 


CHAPTER XVII 


SCHOOL AGAIN 

“ T) UTHIE, you can’t say that you like school 

IV now, can you? ” Moya whispered. 

The school-room was silent; through the open win- 
dows came the voices of people walking along King 
street; it was a warm sunny day and the sky was 
brilliantly blue. 

“ Moya, the bell has rung,” reproved Miss Orcutt. 

“ Yes, Miss Orcutt.” 

Silence again, while Moya tried to settle down to 
work. Finally, very quietly, she raised her desk-cover, 
burrowed into the disorder of books and papers until 
she found her lunch-box. Ruthie looked at her in- 
quiringly as she opened the cover, speared a preserved 
strawberry from a glass jar at the end of her compass 
and held it across the aisle. Ruthie nodded as she took 
it, and looked from her open book to the window. 

It was study-hour, the last period before luncheon. 
Monday, and the day was still only half over. 

“Let’s take our bikes this afternoon,” whispered 
Ruthie. “ And — ” 


220 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


221 


“ Ruthie! ” said Miss Orcutt. “ If you girls are not 
quiet, I’ll have to ask you to remain after school.” 

“ Yes, Miss Orcutt.” 

She looked back at her Latin translation, but a little 
bird hopping from limb to limb of a blossoming cherry- 
tree outside caught her attention. Down the long 
street, she could see the rows of horse-chestnut trees, 
festooned with pink blossoms. An Italian with a hand- 
organ stopped outside the school and began to play; 
Ruthie tried to translate Caesar in time to “ Silver 
Threads Among the Gold.” 

“ Ruthie! ” She turned, at Moya’s whisper, but 
Miss Orcutt had heard also. 

“ Moya, what am I going to do with you? ” she 
asked. 

Moya stood up meekly. “ I don’t know, Miss Or- 
cutt.” 

The teacher smiled; she was fond of both the girls. 
“ I know it’s hard to study in spring, but you’ve got 
to — the other girls are studying. How shall I punish 
you? I don’t want to keep you in the schoolhouse 
any more than I have to.” 

Moya shook her head. 

“ Any suggestions, Ruthie? ” 

Ruthie rose, smiling. “You might have us write 


222 RUTHIE 

‘ Silence is Golden ’ a hundred times,” she suggested, 
“ like primary school.” 

The class tittered and Miss Orcutt smiled sadly. “ I 
may do that,” she said. “ Now please go to work.” 

The minute hand of the clock crept about slowly; 
it hardly seemed to move. 

“ Say, Ruthie,” Moya began, leaning forward. 

“Moya McMahon! ” 

“ Oh, I forgot, Miss Orcutt. Honestly.” 

“ But you mustn’t forget. Moya, you may write 
1 Silence is Golden ’ for me one hundred times after 
school today.” 

Moya grinned. “ All right, Miss Orcutt.” 

Finally the study-hour came to an end, and the class 
jvas released for lunch. 

“ I don’t want to stay after school,” Moya said. 
“ I want to go riding with you.” 

“ Here — I’ll help you,” Ruthie suggested. “ Wait 
a minute — I have an idea.” She seized a sheet of 
paper and began scribbling the motto; in a few minutes 
eight other girls were copying it from the blackfc ard. 
Ruthie collected the pieces of paper and numbered 
them. “There you are!” she said triumphantly. 
“ One hundred times. A ad in ten different hand- 
writings.” 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


223 


Moya laughed as she took the papers. 

“ I dare you to give them to Miss Orcutt! ” Aileen 
Carter said. 

“ I will,” Moya answered. 

Charlotte Melvin, who sat behind Ruthie in the class- 
room, watched them silently. “ Don’t make things 
harder for Miss Orcutt than you can help,” she said. 
“ I don’t mean to be a goody-goody, Moya, but she’s 
awfully tired.” 

“ So are we,” said Moya. “ It doesn’t seem as if 
I could stand a month and a half more school.” 

“ It’s a good deal harder for her,” Charlotte re- 
turned. 

“ She doesn’t have to study,” Moya said. 

“ No. But she’s supporting her mother and an im 
valid brother, and I think we ought to try to make 
it a little bit pleasant.” 

Moya shrugged her shoulders. She was sorry for 
Miss Orcutt, of course, but she resented Charlotte’s 
interference. And it wasn’t as though she tried to 
make it hard for Miss Orcutt, as she told Ruthie after- 
wards. 

At three o’clock, she bore the sheets of paper to 
the teacher and Miss Orcutt smiled as she took them. 
“ All right, Moya,” she said. “ You’re a naughty girl, 


RUTHIE 


J224 

but never mind. I know how hard spring is — I hate 
school myself, sometimes.” 

u You’re a dear/’ said Moya, and then felt surprised 
and embarrassed at having said such a thing to a 
teacher. In the morning, she brought her a bunch of 
violets from her garden, and Miss Orcutt flushed with 
pleasure as she took them. 

The days grew hotter and hotter, and as the summer 
vacation drew nearer, the weeks seemed endless. Moya 
and Peg went with Ruthie to Foxport over the week- 
ends, and returned, refreshed, but rebelling even more 
against the restrictions which kept them in school. 
One Monday morning as the Blake automobile rolled 
up King street toward the school, with the three girls 
in the back seat, they passed Charlotte Melvin. They 
waved, but she did not seem to see them. 

“ You know, Charlotte would be almost pretty if she 
wore nicer clothes,” Ruthie said reflectively, as they 
entered the schoolhouse. 

“ You can’t wear a white dress more than a day at 
school,” said Moya. “ I should think — ” She paused 
as Charlotte hurried by them, her cheeks flaming. 

“ Do you think she heard us? ” Peg whispered. 

“ I don’t know,” said Moya. She looked after Char- 
lotte’s thin figure. “ I didn’t mean to hurt her — I’m 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


225 

sort of sorry for her, anyway. She’s been sick so 
much this year.” 

They walked into the class-room, and sighed as the 
first bell rang and another day began. 

“ I’ve just been going over The Beanstalk books,” 
Peg said, at lunch hour, “ and do you know, we’ve 
actually made money! It’s all because of that Hollo- 
way Park thing, Ruthie.” 

“ How much have we made? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ Nearly a hundred dollars.” 

“Fine!” Ruthie’s eyes shone. “What shall we 
do with it? ” 

“ Let’s give something to the school,” Moya sug- 
gested. “ We might talk it over with Miss Orcutt.” 

Miss Orcutt suggested a meeting of the first and 
second-year girls, so the next day after school, they 
filed into the assembly hall, and Ruthie and Peg and 
Moya stood beside Miss Orcutt on the platform. The 
teacher suggested several things that the school needed, 
and finally the girls decided to buy extra equipment 

for the domestic science course. The small kitchen 
♦ 

on the third floor of the school had been installed that 
year, and there were not enough pans and implements 
to go around. 

“ Some one of you will have to do the shopping,” 


226 RUTHIE 

said Miss Orcutt. “ Will one of you please nominate a 

girl? ” 

“ Ruthie Blake,” called Rose. 

“ Seconded,” said Aileen. 

Miss Orcutt smiled at Ruthie. 

“ It’ll be loads of fun,” Moya whispered. “ I love 
to shop. And ninety-seven dollars, Ruthie.” 

Charlotte Melvin stood up, and Miss Orcutt nodded. 

“ I don’t want to be unpleasant,” Charlotte said, and 
the girls grew silent to listen to her. “ But I honestly 
don’t think Ruthie is a good choice. We always choose 
Ruthie for things, just because we like her and she’s 
popular, but anyone who has watched her in cooking 
class knows that she doesn't know a thing about house- 
work.” 

Ruthie smiled as she thought of her latest mistake 
in the class. She had been making muffins, and she 
had mixed a creamy batter, scooped it into the pans 
proudly. But when the teacher came to look over the 
result, they discovered that Ruthie had forgotten the 
flour. The class had been in an uproar, as it was whis- 
pered from table to table. 

“ We ought to send someone who knows more about 
shopping,” Charlotte went on. “ You see, Miss Orcutt, 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


227 

for one thing, Ruthie has more money than most of 
us, and she won’t know how to buy economically. She 
won’t have any idea whether things are expensive or 
cheap.” 

The girls nodded. 

“ I imagine you’re right, Charlotte,” said Miss Or- 
cu tt. “ Shall we vote again? ” 

“ I nominate Charlotte,” called Marion Allen. 

Moya snorted. “ She wanted it herself,” she whis- 
pered to Ruthie. “ I think that’s mean. And it was 
you who gave the money! ” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” Ruthie said. But she was dis- 
appointed. She realized that Charlotte was right, but 
when Charlotte was elected, she felt a slight tinge of 
jealousy. It was her money. 

She gave the money to Charlotte, and when, a week 
later, they inspected the new equipment, they were 
fully satisfied. 

“ I had no idea you could buy so much with ninety- 
seven dollars! ” Ruthie said. “ Why, we can cook any- 
thing, now! ” 

“ I’ll bet you could have done just as well,” said 
Moya stoutly, and although Ruthie doubted it, she 
did not contradict her. 


228 RUTHIE 

The middle of May came, and one day when the girls 
were collected in the class-room, Miss Orcutt called 
them to order before the bell had rung. 

“ It’s time to have the class outing,” she said. 
“ We’ve always gone to Pleasant Lake for a picnic, of 
course, but I’ll let you talk it over among yourselves.” 

Peg joined Ruthie and Moya; the entire class sepa- 
rated into small groups, talking eagerly. 

“ Pleasant Lake isn’t much fun,” Moya said. “ It’s 
that town just the other side of Harford, you know, 
Ruthie, with the amusement park.” 

“ You go by boat,” Peg put in. “ Down the Hollo- 
way River and then across the lake. We’ve had fun 
there, though.” 

“ But it’s so hot and sticky,” said Moya. “ A whole 
bunch of yelling kids and people eating hot-dogs and 
pop-corn and drinking warm lemonade. It’s sort of 
cheap.” 

“ Why don’t we go to the new pavillion in Hollo- 
way Park, then? ” Ruthie asked. “ It’s awfully pretty 
and cool, with nice white linen and everything. And 
we can get tables near the windows and look out at 
the gardens.” 

Moya brightened. “ That would be fun. Let’s sug- 
gest it.” 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


229 


“Let’s all go to the pavillion, instead,” she sug- 
gested. “ It’s lots cleaner and prettier.” 

“ Well? ” Miss Orcutt glanced about the room. 

“ I think Pleasant Lake is much nicer,” Charlotte 
said, and Moya scowled. “ There’s nothing to do at 
the pavillion except eat and talk.” 

“ We could go to a matinee first,” Ruthie said. “ I 
think it would be fun for us all to go to the theater 
together.” 

Charlotte laughed. “ You know, Ruthie,” she said, 
in a rather patronizing voice, “ some of the girls can’t 
afford that sort of thing.” 

Ruthie did not answer, because she did not know 
quite what to say. 

“ People who’re afraid to spend a dollar make me 
tired,” Moya announced. “ It won’t cost any more 
to go to the pavillion, and it will be so much nicer.” 

The class divided into two factions, headed by 
Ruthie and Charlotte. Most of the girls Ruthie liked 
best sided with her — all of them, in fact, but Rose 
Delain. 

“ Well, you’ll have to decide among yourselves,” 
Miss Orcutt said finally. “ Next Saturday ought to 
be a good day — let me know when you’ve come to an 
agreement.” 


230 RUTHIE 

The nine o’clock bell cut further conversation short, 
but an undercurrent of whispering went on through- 
out the whole day. 

“ Charlotte’s trying to run everything, just because 
she was elected to buy The Beanstalk present,” said 
Moya. “ She knows just as well as we do that the 
pavillion would be more fun. I heard her say just 
yesterday that she was crazy to go there some day.” 

“ Maybe some of the girls can’t afford it,” Peg 
put in. 

“ It’ll be only a few dollars,” said Ruthie. 

“ I know — but some people don’t have much money, 
Ruthie.” 

“ But — ” Ruthie looked at her perplexed. “ I sup- 
pose they don’t. But I thought white people always 
had all the money they needed. I’ve never seen any 
poor people except natives.” 

Moya and Peg laughed. 

“Haven’t you ever been down on Peterborough 
street? ” asked Moya. “ There’re lots of poor people 
in Holloway.” 

Ruthie frowned. “ I guess — I guess I don’t know 
much about America, yet,” she admitted. 

“ Still,” Moya continued, “ all the girls in our class 
can afford it. And it will be so much more fun.” 


SCHOOL AGAIN 231 

So the deadlock continued; Ruthie and her friends 
refused to give up the idea of the pavillion; Charlotte 
was quite as decided on Pleasant Lake. 

“ Marion Allen says that last year when they went 
to Pleasant Lake, the captain of the boat took the girls 
right into the engine room,” Ruthie said the next after- 
noon. “ He showed ’em all about the running of the 
boat.” 

“ Captain Wade is a dear,” Peg said. “ He’s been 
on that line for years and years.” 

“ Say, Peggy,” Moya interrupted, “ I’d forgotten how 
we all had those funny photographs taken last year at 
the picnic. One of the girls was talking about it.” 

“ And how we almost missed the boat! ” Peg said. 
“ Rose was saying something about it only yesterday.” 

Ruthie laughed. “You know, girls,” she said, 
“ Charlotte Melvin is clever. She’s got everyone talk- 
ing about the picnic last year. I think you two want to 
go to Pleasant Lake.” 

“ Honestly we don’t,” Moya said. “ It was rather 
fun last year, but we’re older now, and it really isn’t 
very nice. Is it, Peg? ” 

“ No,” Peg said, but she did not seem enthusiastic. 

The school-room was filled with stories of the adven- 
tures of the last Pleasant Lake picnic, and when the 


RUTHIE 


232 

time came for voting, there were only three votes in 
favor of the pavillion. 

“ I’m glad/’ one of the girls said to Ruthie. “ Of 
course it would have been nice, but lots of the girls 
couldn’t have gone. It costs two dollars and a half for 
dinner there, you know.” 

Ruthie flushed. 

“ Well, I guess we’ve got to go to Pleasant Lake,” 
said Peg. 

“ We three could go to the pavillion together,” Ruthie 
suggested. 

Moya hesitated. “Well — I think we’d better go 
with the rest of the girls,” she said. “ After all — ” 

“ Moya McMahon, I think you’d rather go there! ” 
Ruthie accused her. 

“ No, but since they’ve voted for it — ” 

Charlotte made the arrangements. She collected 
twelve cents from each girl for the tickets, and wrote 
in large letters on the blackboard the time and place 
they were to meet on Saturday. 

“ We’ll all wear middies and skirts,” Charlotte said. 

“ I don’t see any sense in that,” Moya announced 
to Ruthie. “ Still, Charlotte seems to be a regular 
tyrant, and we might as well do what she says. I don’t 
think we’re going to have a nice time a bit, though.” 


SCHOOL AGAIN 


233 

But on Saturday when Ruthie called first at Moya’s 
house and then at Peg’s and the three girls hurried 
down the street in their clean middy-blouses, each car- 
rying a lunch-box, they felt as excited as though they 
were going to the pavillion — or some place that they 
really liked. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE CLASS PICNIC 

‘ TT’S starting! ” Peg said excitedly, and the three 

A girls hurried with the rest to the bow of the 
boat. Deep down inside, the engine was humming; 
the water about the boat began to ripple and foam. 
Then very slowly, the wharf seemed to drift back- 
wards, and the steamboat pushed forward, with a ruffle 
of white spray. The girls hurried back to the stern, to 
watch the receding dock, and the little city slipping 
backwards into the morning sky. The wheels turned 
over and over and the broad path in the w' ter length- 
ened rapidly. 

“ My, doesn’t it smell good! ” said Ruthie, drinking 
in the air. “ This is fun, Moya.” 

Moya nodded, and they smiled. 

The girls had gathered camp-stools and were grouped 
about the stern, the sun beating down on their white 
middies and bright straw hats. 

“Let’s go down and get some pickle-limes,” said 
Charlotte. 


234 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


235 


“ Pickle-limes? ” repeated Ruthie, turning to Moya. 
“ What are they? ” 

The girls laughed. 

“ They’re heavenly,” Rose Delain said. “ To think 
that you’ve never tasted one! What an ignorant little 
thing you are, Ruthie! Come along.” 

They hurried down r ;o the cabin, past the glass- 
walled engine room to t e stand where soft-drinks and 
candy were sold. In great glass cases on the counters, 
the pickle-limes met their eyes. They bought them 
excitedly, and stood around Ruthie as she received 
hers from the boy’s outstretched hand. She held the 
dripping, salty thing and looked at it doubtfully. 

“ Taste it, Ruthie,” said Moya. “ Take a big bite. 
Mm-m-m.’fc She bit into hers and smacked her 
lips. 

Ruthie watched her and looked again at the lime. 
“ It’s nothing but a lemon ! ” she said at last. 

“ Taste it.” 

Reluctantly Ruthie lifted it to her lips, nibbled at 
the skin. “ How funny! ” She took a larger bite and 
made a disappointed face. “ I don’t like it a bit, Moya. 
I think it’s horrid. Ugh! ” 

The girls laughed. 

“ It’s an acquired taste, Ruthie,” Aileen Carter said, 


236 RUTHIE 

smiling. “ Rut you’ll be crazy about ’em after you’ve 

eaten two or three dozen.” 

“ Two or three doz — ” Ruthie took another bite 
reflectively. “ Tastes like medicine,” she said, but she 
ate it all bravely. “ I must admit I’m glad it’s over, 
though,” she said, when she had swallowed the last 
mouthful. 

They walked about the boat, watching the engines 
and the great wheel churning up the water, looking 
curiously at the other passengers. 

“ Land ahead ! ” called Moya. 

The river widened into the lake and the boat sailed 
serenely across, making for a dock. Behind the wharf 
the brightly painted towers and turrets of the amuse- 
ment park loomed against the blue sky, the roller- 
coasters stood up starkly, like the skeletons of great 
lake monsters that had crawled to the shore to die. 
The red and gold ferris-wheel was turning about slowly; 
a wheel-shaped arrangement with small boat-like cars 
swinging from iron bars twirled and swayed and the 
screams of the riders floated across the lake to the boat. 

“ Oh, this is fun! ” Ruthie said again. 

The boat docked with a bump; Miss Orcutt herded 
the girls together, and they filed down the gang-plank 
noisily. 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


237 

“ Do you want to go into the park first? ” Miss 
Orcutt asked. 

“ Yes.” 

They walked, five abreast, up the dirty street, lit- 
tered with empty pop-corn boxes and papers. 

“ It’s like a foreign city,” Ruthie said, “ with all 
these little booths.” 

The street was walled with tiny stores, flaunting 
bright colored flags and balloons, souvenir pennants 
and pillow-cushions, dolls and china dogs, canes and 
imitation jewelry of every description. The men in 
the shops called out their wares; the smell of buttered 
pop-corn, of hot taffy, of frankfurters and fish chowder 
drifted along through the air. 

The amusement park was surrounded by a high 
wooden fence, painted sky-blue, edged with ornamental 
gold knobs and pieces of wood. The entrance was a 
large, pillared gate, and past the wire cage where the 
cashier sat, the girls saw dozens of people walking 
about, heard the squeals of children and grown-people. 

“The roller-coaster first! ” said Peg. “Don’t you 
love ’em, Ruthie? ” 

Ruthie nodded, and they hurried breathlessly to the 
gate, bought their tickets, and waited along the tracks 
until the cars whirled down upon them, and the red- 


238 RUTH IE 

cheeked, wind-blown passengers got out. They piled 
in, Ruthie and Moya in the front seat of one car, Aileen 
and Peg sitting behind them. Moya grasped Ruthie’s 
hand tightly. 

“ This is an awful one! ” she said. 

The car started slowly, began climbing an almost 
perpendicular slope of tracks. 

“ Oh-h-h-h! ” Screams from ahead floated back to 
them. 

“ Oh-h-h-h! ” Ruthie’s scream and Moya’s mingled 
to float in turn to the cars behind. 

The train had reached the top of the slope; below, 
the tracks dropped so that it seemed incredible that the 
cars could hold on. They sped on, and before Ruthie 
had caught her breath, charged madly up the next 
incline, turned violently, sped about, dipped, climbed, 
twisted. Ruthie was still screaming when the car 
stopped with a jerk on the platform. 

“ Oh, let’s go again! ” she said, and Moya nodded. 
They bought more tickets, and again the car started, 
again followed the breathless journey. 

“ Again? ” asked Moya, as they reached the plat- 
form a second time. 

“ Yes,” Ruthie said. “ It’s much too short.” 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


239 

Up, up, up . . . They were on the top of the in- 
cline, the dip dropped away before them. Creeping — 
creeping — 

“ We’re going over in a minute,” Ruthie said, hold- 
ing tight to Moya’s hand. 

The wheels crunched, the hinges and springs creaked 
— and the cars came to an abrupt stop, pausing on the 
very edge of the drop. 

The attendants in the front car hopped out, and 
walked along the narrow board that hung over nothing- 
ness. They caught hold of the cars and pushed and 
strained, but except for the creaking sound, the cars 
were still. 

“ Someone else get out and push,” one of them or- 
dered. Two boys from the back car stepped out; still 
the train hung motionless on the brow of the drop. 

Ruthie giggled. “ Goodbye, Moya,” she said, and 
while Moya watched in horror, she stepped to the nar- 
row plank and added her strength to the others. 
Finally, very slowly, the cars began to slip. 

“In — quick!” snapped the attendants. 

Moya caught Ruthie’s arm excitedly as she hopped 
into the car, and sat down beside her. 

“Oh-h-h-h! ” Screams from the foremost cars; a 


RUTHIE 


240 

series of screams drifting back. The train dropped 
down, plunged up the second hill of tracks, turned, 
twisted, came to a breathless stop on the platform. 

“Well! ” said Ruthie, 

Moya looked at her, round-eyed. “ I wouldn’t have 
done that for a million dollars! ” she said. 

Ruthie laughed. “ Want to ride again? ” 

“ No! ” 

/ They climbed out and walked down the steps. 

“ What now? ” called Charlotte. 

“ I want something stationary for a change,” said 
Moya. “ Let’s go in the hall of mirrors,” 

Miss Orcutt sat, smiling, on a bench, surrounded 
by lunch-boxes and coats, as the girls entered the hall, 
walked about, screaming with laughter at their reflec- 
tions fat and thin, short and tall, but grotesque always. 

“ Now the merry-go-round, please,” begged Ruthie. 
“ You don’t know how I love ’em. One of the Cir- 
cuses that came to Pekin had one and you ought to 
have seen the elderly, serious Chinese merchants 
perched on wooden horses riding around and around 
as if they were on a business trip! ” 

Moya laughed. “ I’d like to have seen them,” she 
said. 

They climbed aboard, and the tinkling music box 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


241 

in the center of the whirling circular platform pounded 
out old songs and dances. Ruthie held the reins of 
her charger tightly, posted up and down as he rushed 
forward, his cotton mane flying in the wind. Moya’s 
tiger was more sedate, Peg’s giraffe nodded his long 
neck with apparent enjoyment. 

“ I’m going to try for the gold ring,” said Moya. 

“ The gold ring? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ You are ignorant. If you get it, you have a free 
ride. They’re all silver but one — watch that boy on 
the platform.” 

They jumped from their chargers and stood on the 
edge of the platform, leaning over the edge, one arm 
circled about a wooden pillar. 

Ruthie edged up excitedly toward the ring that 
hung from the metal arm. It clicked against her 
fingers as she whirled past, and she shook her head 
impatiently. 

“One! ” said Moya triumphantly. 

Again. But her hold was not strong enough. Again. 

“Moya! ” she called excitedly. “The gold ring! 
I guess I’m pretty good.” 

Moya leaned forward. “The gold ring! Why, 
Ruthie Blake! ” 

The boy held out a basket and the silver rings 


RUTHIE 


242 

showered into it as the girls tossed them; the merry- 
go-round stopped, and Ruthie exchanged her circle of 
gold for a pink ticket, stepped back on the platform 
proudly. 

“ Now let’s go in the Old Mill.” 

The Old Mill was a labyrinth of narrow dark pas- 
sages, floored with water that flowed swiftly, carrying 
small boats through a breathless series of dark alleys 
out again into the air, down a gentle water- fall to the 
starting point. 

“ That’s not exciting,” said Ruthie. “ How about 
the flying baskets? ” 

They mounted into the little baskets, were whirled 
and snapped about to their hearts’ content. 

“ I’m thirsty,” said Peg. There followed ginger-ale 
— warm and too dejected to bubble properly; ice- 
cream cones and pop-corn. 

“ Now we’ll have our pictures taken.” Outside the 
tent, as they came out, they were faced by a booth 
where salt-water taffy was being made before their 
eyes; they bought little bags of the sticky candy and 
ate it greedily. 

“ That slide looks rather fun,” said Ruthie. 

They turned and faced the long sloping expanse 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


243 

of polished wood that ended abruptly in a pile of sea- 
sand. 

“ That’s just for kids,” said Moya, looking rather 
enviously at the small children who climbed to the top, 
sped to the sand-pile in a breathless, whirling flight. 

“ Well, I haven’t any gray hairs yet,” Ruthie an- 
nounced, and hurried up the stairs, slid down, rolling 
over and over as she lost her balance. She picked 
herself up, dusty and flushed, and climbed to the top 
again. The other girls followed, and they slid down, 
hand in hand, in rows, in groups, in bunches. Finally, 
breathless, they stood watching the others. 

The amusements seemed endless, but finally they had 
done everything they could think of. They walked 
back to the tent and received their photographs, com- 
pared them eagerly, laughing. 

“ Now would you like to go in bathing? ” asked 
Miss Orcutt. 

“ Once more on the roller-coaster,” begged Ruthie, 
and after one breathless ride with the insatiable Peg, 
they joined the others and flocked out through the 
pink and blue gates, crossed the noisy, odorous street 
to the white beach that stretched along the lake front. 

They emerged from the long bathing house, as alike 


244 RUTHIE 

as leaves on a tree, in badly fitting black bathing suits, 
trimmed with white braid. They swam and dived and 
splashed in the cool water. 

“ Wish Peri was here! ” said Ruthie, as she climbed 
to the raft beside Moya. 

“ So do I.” 

Finally they joined Miss Orcutt on the beach, 
dressed again in their dusty middies and skirts. 

“ Hungry? ” she asked, smiling. 

“ Starved/’ said Ruthie. 

They chose a shady part of the beach and spread 
out their lunches, ate ravenously. 

“ I have consumed,” said Ruthie finally, “ lemonade, 
ginger-ale, Roman punch, ice-cream cones and hot- 
dogs. Pop-corn, taffy, molasses-apples, and sweet 
chocolates. Maraschino cherries, sardines, olives, 
pickles and a banana. Tuna fish sandwiches, jelly, 
cheese, deviled ham and pimento. Fruit cake, mo- 
lasses cookies — ” 

“Stop! Oh, please stop!” Miss Orcutt begged 
weakly. “ Ruthie Blake, I shall die if you mention 
another thing.” 

Ruthie grinned. “ That’s not half of it,” she said, 
“but I’ll spare your finer feelings.” 

They lay back on the sand happily. 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


245 

“ Shall we go in the park once more before we go 
home? ” asked Rose. 

They nodded, and picked up their empty lunch- 
boxes, entered once more through the ornate gateway. 
Again, they went through the different stunts. 

“ The boat leaves in fifteen minutes,” warned Miss 
Orcutt. 

“ Once more on the flying baskets,” begged Char- 
lotte. Ruthie hopped in at her side; Moya and Peg 
climbed in back. The baskets swung through the air, 
and the park revolved like a kaleidoscope beneath 
them. They came to a stop. 

Ruthie swung out, Charlotte followed; then a cry 
pierced through the tinkle of the merry-go-round, the 
roar of the roller-coaster. 

“My ankle! ” Charlotte said. “Oh, dear! ” She 
sat on the ground, rubbing her ankle, and wincing. 

Ruthie and Moya helped her to her feet, and she 
limped painfully to the boat. They sat with Char- 
lotte on the deck going home, and as she talked, laugh- 
ing and joking, but with little starts of pain flitting 
across her face, Ruthie felt her admiration growing. 

“ Someone had better go home with Charlotte,” 
Miss Orcutt said. 


“ I will,” said Ruthie. 


246 RUTHIE 

Charlotte turned quickly. “ It’s really not a bit 
necessary,” she insisted. 

“ But I want to,” Ruthie insisted. 

“ I — I’d rather you didn’t.” 

Ruthie looked at her curiously, but when the boat 
docked, Charlotte’s ankle had swelled so that she could 
hardly walk, and the Blake car was drawn up at the 
wharf. 

“ Now don’t be silly, Charlotte,” said Miss Orcutt. 
“ Of course you’ll let Ruthie take you home.” 

“ All right,” Charlotte answered, and meekly sub- 
mitted to being helped into the car. 

“ Where do you live? ” Ruthie asked. 

“ Peterborough street,” Charlotte answered. Ruthie 
repeated it to the chauffeur, who looked, for a moment, 
surprised, and then nodded. 

Peg had gone home alone, so Moya and Ruthie sat 
beside Charlotte chattering about the picnic. 

“ It’s been so lovely, Charlotte,” said Ruthie. “ I 
was silly not to want to go.” 

Charlotte smiled. “ The pavillion would have been 
fun,” she said. 

The car turned into an untidy, crowded neighbor- 
hood, stopped before a dirty brick apartment house. 

“ Why — where’s he going? ” Ruthie asked in sur- 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


247 

prise, as the chauffeur climbed out to open the car 
door. 

“ This is where I live,” Charlotte said, and Ruthie 
flushed. 

They helped her up the three long flights of stairs, 
and entered a small apartment, clean, but dingy and 
sunless. A pale, pretty woman sat in an invalid’s 
chair and smiled as they came in. 

“ I want you to meet my Mother,” Charlotte said 
proudly, and Mrs. Melvin held out a small white hand 
to them. 

“ I’m glad to meet you girls,” she said. “ Charlotte 
never brings anyone home — of course she is sick so 
much that she doesn’t have much chance to play.” 

“ We’re awfully glad to come,” Ruthie said. “ I — 
I’m sorry you’re not well.” 

Mrs. Melvin smiled. “ Oh, I’m as well as I’ll ever 
be,” she said. “ It’s hard for Charlotte, of course, 
that I can’t get about, because she has to do so much 
of the housework. Dolly helps her, but Dolly’s only 
ten.” 

“ I didn’t know you had a sister,” Ruthie said, 
turning to Charlotte, who sat flushing and looking un- 
comfortable. 

“ She’s a darling,” Charlotte said, and again her 


248 RUTHIE 

voice was proud. “ Where is she, Mother darling? ” 

“ She went out to buy some things for supper. 
She — ” 

The door opened, and a little girl, her arms loaded 
with paper bags, came in. Charlotte limped over and 
took the bundles, kissed her tenderly. Dolly Melvin 
was like her mother, a tiny, white-skinned child, with 
fair curly hair and wide blue eyes. 

She crossed over to her mother and dropped some 
change into her hand. “ Potato salad costs three cents 
more a pound,” she remarked in a lisping little voice. 
“And the man said — ” 

“ Never mind, honey,” said Charlotte. “ I — ” 

“ We must go now,” Ruthie said. “ It’s been a 
lovely day, Charlotte. Goodbye.” Half unconsciously, 
she slipped her arm about Charlotte’s shoulders and 
kissed her. 

They climbed into the automobile silently. 

“ I know why Charlotte’s sick so much,” Moya said 
suddenly. 

“ Why? ” 

“ Because she doesn’t get enough to eat.” 

Ruthie looked at Moya in horror. “ Really, Moya? ” 

“ I’m sure of it. Oh, I’m sorry we were horrid to 
her, Ruthie.” 


THE CLASS PICNIC 


249 


“So’mL Oh, Moya!” 

They looked at each other again. 

“That awful place! I didn’t know people lived 
like that. I’m going to tell Mother about it,” said 
Ruthie. “ It seems as if we could do something.” 

Moya nodded. “ We’ll have to — somehow,” she 
said. 


CHAPTER XIX 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 
HEIR resolve to “ do something ” for Charlotte 



A was strengthened when she did not appear in 
school the following week. Mrs. Blake went with 
Ruthie to the Melvin apartment, with a basket of fruit 
for the sick girl, and they found that it was not her 
ankle, but a slight attack of grippe that was keeping 
her from school. 

“ We must do something for them, Mother,” Ruthie 
insisted, as they drove home, and Mrs. Blake nodded. 

“ It will be hard, of course,” she said. “ You can’t 
offer them charity or anything. I wonder — ” 

“ What, Mother? ” 

Mrs. Blake smiled. “ I don’t know exactly,” she 
said. “ I’ll have to talk with your father. I’m sending 
Dr. Hallowed down to see Mrs. Melvin, by the way.” 

“ Oh, I’m glad,” Ruthie said. 

The first of June came before Charlotte reappeared 
at the school. She found that Peg and Moya and 
Ruthie expected her to “ chum ” with them, and her 
pale face flushed as they took her arms and went to- 


250 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 251 

gether into the lunch-room. As they passed the mirror 
in the dressing-room that led off the lunch-room, 
Ruthie wondered whether Charlotte noticed the con- 
trast. It was not so much in her clothes although they 
were of cheap material compared with the others, but 
the radiant health of the three others made her seem 
thin and small, her blue eyes looked darker than 
Moya’s, and the shadows beneath them seemed almost 
black beside Ruthie’s clear eyes. 

“ Exams begin tomorrow,” Charlotte sighed, “ and 
oh, I’m so behind. And I’ve got to do well — I want 
to make a scholarship to get into college, you know, 
and I’ve got to keep up my marks.” 

Ruthie nodded. “ You can get through history to- 
morrow,” she said. 

“ Yes. But geometry — it’s so hard to make it up all 
alone.” 

“ We’ll go over it together,” said Moya. “ I just 
barely skin through on most things, but I like geom- 
etry and I’m good in it.” 

Ruthie and Peg studied their history together in 
the Blake living-room, while Moya rehearsed Char- 
lotte in geometry. Mrs. Blake came in, smiling, with 
sandwiches and milk and cakes, and Charlotte ate 
hungrily. 


252 RUTH IE 

The history examination was not so difficult as they 
had expected, and they all passed easily. But the next 
morning when they filed into Miss Kirkman’s room 
for geometry, they were silent and serious. 

The bell rang, and the class sat quietly, while Miss 
Kirkman passed out the clean sheets of test paper. 
She was a tall, dark woman, with thick eyebrows and 
sharp eyes; she was quick in her movements, quick to 
explain difficulties — and quick in her temper. 

She frowned at Charlotte, who sat, twisting her hand- 
kerchief in her hands. “ There’s no use in being nerv- 
ous,” she remarked. “ It won’t help you any, and it 
will probably do a lot of harm.” 

Charlotte nodded, and stopped twisting the hand- 
kerchief, but her eyes, as they met Ruthie’s, were dark 
and frightened. 

They wrote their names at the top of the papers, 
waited while Miss Kirkman walked to the blackboard, 
began writing the questions. 

Ruthie sighed in relief at the first problem, and 
pulled out her scratch-paper, made the diagram quickly. 
She glanced across at Charlotte, sitting beside Moya, 
and saw that she, too, was working rapidly. She fin- 
ished the second problem and turned to the third. It 
was simple enough, but she realized immediately that 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 253 

it had been in one of the most recent lessons, the last 
of a group of problems they had studied during Char- 
lotte’s absence. Charlotte could do it, of course, if 
only she knew the first of the group. She wondered 
how far Moya had gone in the reviewing the day before. 

She looked across at Charlotte, and met Moya’s 
eyes. Charlotte was sitting, her head bent on her 
hands, and a tear was trickling down her cheek. She 
was scratching absently on the scrap-paper, and her 
hand trembled. It seemed almost a minute that Ruthie 
and Moya exchanged glances; finally Ruthie turned 
with a sigh to her own paper. It was hard luck. She 
looked over the rest of the problem and wondered how 
Charlotte would get along. If only she knew that 
first mother-problem of them all! 

“ Moya! ” Miss Kirkman’s voice cut harshly through 
the stillness; Rose Delain’s pen clattered to the floor, 
and Marion Allen said, “ My goodness! ” in a fright- 
ened whisper. 

Ruthie turned quickly, and saw Moya taking a sheet 
of paper from Charlotte’s desk. 

“ Give me that paper.” Miss Kirkman walked up 
the aisle quickly. 

“No! ” The class gasped as Moya tore the sheet 
into small bits, dropped them on the floor. 


254 RUTH IE 

Miss Kirkman’s eyes narrowed. “ What were you 
doing? ” 

Moya stood up. “I didn’t know how to do that 
problem / 5 she said, “ so I asked Charlotte. It wasn’t 
her fault. She said she couldn’t help me, so I reached 
over and took her piece of scrap-paper with the prob- 
lem worked out.” She faced the teacher squarely. 

“You may leave the room now,” Miss Kirkman 
said, in a cold voice. “ The class will go on with the 
examination. Professor Jordan is holding a study- 
class — go up and report to him, Moya.” 

“ Yes, Miss Kirkman.” 

Charlotte raised her hand. 

“ Go to work, Charlotte.” 

“ But, Miss Kirkman, Moya — ” 

“ Go to work, Charlotte. The examination must pro- 
ceed.” 

Charlotte looked at her helplessly for a minute; 
finally the girls turned back to their work. 

Ruthie’s heart was thumping. She knew, of course, 
that Moya had not cheated. Moya knew the problem; 
she was certain of that. And Charlotte . . . She 
looked back helplessly at her examination, tried to 
clear her mind of thoughts until the hour was over. 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 255 

She kept apart from the other girls in the period 
between classes; the next hour was Latin; slowly the 
hands of the clock crept to three. The dismissal bell 
rang. 

Ruthie hurried up to Moya. “Tell me/ 5 she said 
breathlessly. 

Moya smiled. “ I was cheating/ 5 she said. “ I 
couldn’t for the life of me think of that problem, 
and— 55 

“ Moya, you weren’t! ” Ruthie said quickly. “ You 
know you weren’t.” 

“ I don’t want to talk about it/ 5 Moya replied, and 
walked away leaving Ruthie staring after her. 

Charlotte came up and Moya pounced upon her; 
Ruthie could see that the two girls were in a heated 
argument. Moya’s cheeks were pale but her eyes were 
blazing; Charlotte was flushed and her eyes were wet 
with tears. 

Miss Kirkman walked into the room, went up to 
Moya. Charlotte hurried out, and Miss Kirkman and 
Moya disappeared. 

Then Peg came in. “ I know she didn’t do it/ 5 Peg 
said. “ I know she didn’t, Ruthie.” 

“ So do I,” Ruthie said grimly. “ I think it was this 


256 RUTH IE 

way. She was trying to help Charlotte — it’s just like 
her, you know, not to think, but just to give way be- 
cause she’s so generous.” 

“ But why did she tear up the paper? ” 

“ Because it was in her own handwriting, silly! ” 

“ Oh.” They stared at each other. 

“ What are you going to do? ” Peg asked at last. 

Ruthie shook her head. They lingered about the 
schoolhouse, but Moya did not appear; when they 
telephoned her house that night, her mother said that 
she was not feeling well and had gone to bed. 

In the morning, Charlotte did not come to the school; 
Moya arrived late, pale, and with her lips tightly to- 
gether. 

“ Mr. Johnson wants to see you, Moya,” Miss Orcutt 
said. Her voice was gentle and reproachful, and the 
class grew silent although the first bell had not 
rung. 

Moya nodded and walked out of the room; through 
the open door Ruthie could see her enter the princi- 
pal’s office. 

The morning went by in a mist, as far as Ruthie 
and Peg were concerned. As they came out of Greek 
class, they passed Moya in the corridor. 

Her eyes were red, but she smiled, as she saw them. 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 


257 

“ Well — you’ve lost your little school-mate,” she said, 
but her voice broke as she looked at them. 

“ What do you mean? ” Peg asked. 

Moya smiled sadly. “ I’m expelled,” she said 
quietly. 

“ Oh, Moya — ” Ruthie put her arm about her shoul- 
ders, but Moya pulled away. 

“ Goodbye,” she said. “ See you tomorrow, maybe.” 
She hurried toward the coat-room, and Ruthie stared 
after her with trembling lips. 

Peg burst into tears. “ Ruthie! ” she said. “ Oh, 
Ruthie, it isn’t so! It can’t be! ” 

Miss Kirkman came out, and they rushed up to her. 
“ Moya — ” Ruthie began, and discovered that she 
was crying, too. 

“We can’t have girls like Moya in the school,” Miss 
Kirkman said. “ I’m sorry, of course — I liked Moya. 
And I didn’t think she would do such a thing. It’s 
inconceivable. But we can’t do anything else — she 
admitted it, and was most impenitent.” 

Ruthie gulped. “ But — ” 

“ Really, I’m sorry, Ruthie,” Miss Kirkman said. 
“ But I can’t help it.” 

“Oh, you could! ” Peg said. “You needn’t have 
told Mr. Johnson! You-^” 


258 RUTH IE 

Miss Kirkman smiled. “ Peg, you know it couldn’t 
be helped,” she reproved gently. “ I didn’t do it be- 
cause I wanted to.” 

Peg nodded mournfully. “ Oh, Ruthie! ” 

Ruthie pressed her lips tightly together. “ I know 
it isn’t fair ! ” she said. She hesitated. “ Let’s go and 
see Professor Jordan again.” 

They hurried into the Greek room, and he looked up 
solemnly as they came in. 

“ We’ve got to have Moya back,” Ruthie said. “ Oh, 
Professor Jordan, please — ” 

“ Ruthie, you know that I can’t do anything. I’m 
just as sorry as you are. It doesn’t seem as if I can 
believe in anyone any more. But — ” 

“ But you must believe in her! She didn’t do it! ” 
“ I’m afraid she did, Ruthie.” He blinked at them 
for a moment. “ I — oh, it’s rotten! ” 

Ruthie’s eyes rested on him sadly; he was as hurt 
and as helpless as she, except that he believed that 
Moya had cheated. Ruthie knew that she hadn’t; 
she was as sure of that as though she had seen the 
whole thing. 

“ What are we going to do? ” Peg asked again. 

“I’m going down to see Charlotte.” 

But at Charlotte’s, they were greeted by little Dolly 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 253 

and Dr. Hallo well, who told them that Charlotte had 
a high fever, and could see no one. Ruthie could not 
eat her supper, she went to bed and cried herself to 
sleep. 

It was about two o’clock when she awoke abruptly, 
her cheeks still wet from tears. The house was dark, 
and she looked about her dully. Then she got up and 
walked into her father’s room in her bare feet, opened 
the door quietly. She looked at him for a moment as 
he slept. 

“ Father! Father! ” 

He opened his eyes sleepily; then he sat up in bed 
and blinked as she snapped on the electric light. 

“ Bless my soul! What’s the matter, Ruthie? 
Sick? ” 

Ruthie sat down on the edge of his bed, and cud- 
dled close to him. 

“ Crying? What is it, Ruthie, girl? ” 

“ Oh, Father — you’re so dear. And — I was afraid 
you’d scold me for waking you up.” 

“ Of course not.” He looked at her worriedly. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Really, Daddy. It’s about 
Moya.” 

“ Moya? ” 

“ Yes.” She told him the whole story, and he lis- 


260 RUTHIE 

tened gravely. “ You’ve got to do something, Daddy. 
I know she didn’t — I know it. She couldn’t, Daddy. 
It’s to protect Charlotte.” 

“ Charlotte doesn’t seem like a very nice person,” 
he said at last. 

“ Oh, she is! ” Ruthie insisted. “ You see, I think it 
happened this way. It means so much to Charlotte 
--and her mother’s sick and everything. And Moya 
made her not tell — Moya can make people do anything, 
Daddy. Th-ey didn’t think she’d be expelled or any- 
thing like that. And then Charlotte got sick right 
away — she’s out of her head, Daddy. She’d tell now 
if she could. I know she would.” 

“ Then when she’s well, it’ll be all right, won’t it? ” 

“ But, Daddy, there are only three weeks more of 
school and she may be sick a long time. Moya’s got 
to be here to take her exams in order to get promoted.” 

“Hm-m-m! ” Mr. Blake looked at his daughter 
gravely. 

“ Daddy, you do believe me, don’t you? ” Ruthie 
asked anxiously. 

“ Oh, yes. I agree with you that Moya wouldn’t 
do anything like that. She’s mischievous, but she’s 
honest. Of course what she did isn’t right, but at 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 261 

least it wasn’t criminal. It was just thoughtless — she’s 
such an impulsive kid.” 

Ruthie buried her face on his shoulder. “ Oh, 
Daddy! I knew you’d understand. And you’ll do 
something? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Oh, Daddy! And it’ll be all right? ” 

He hesitated. “ Yes. I’ll promise you, Ruthie.” 

“ Oh, Daddy! ” She cuddled among the blankets 
sleepily, and he lifted her face in his hands and kissed 
her. 

“ Now run along to bed, kiddy. And go to sleep 
. — I’ll think it over and I’ll see Johnson tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Daddy!” She kissed him gratefully. “I 
love you so much, Daddy.” 

“ That’s good. Run along, dear.” 

“ Yes.” 

She turned out the electric light and hurried back 
to her room; it was easy to go to sleep now, and she 
pounded her pillow into a little ball, and fell promptly 
asleep. 

In the morning, her father drove with her to the 
school, and she kissed him as he hurried into Mr. 
Johnson’s office. In the middle of the first period, a 


262 RUTHIE 

messenger came with a note, and Miss Orcutt read it 

in surprise. 

“ Mr. Johnson wants to see you, Ruthie,” she said. 

Ruthie nodded. “ It’s about Moya,” she whispered, 
and Miss Orcutt smiled. 

“ I hope you win, Ruthie,” she said. 

“ Oh, I will! ” Ruthie said confidently. 

Her father was sitting beside Mr. Johnson’s desk, 
and Moya was standing looking out the window. 

“ You tell Mr. Johnson what you told me last night, 
Ruthie,” her father said, and Ruthie told it eagerly, 
while he listened. His face was sympathetic, and 
finally he nodded. 

“ I guess you’re right, Blake,” he said. “ Too bad 
Charlotte’s sick, but I imagine it was unjust. Moya! ” 

Moya turned quietly. 

“ You heard what Ruthie said? ” 

“ Ruthie is wrong,” Moya answered. " She’s very 
dear, but I did cheat.” 

Mr. Johnson laughed. “ See here, Moya,” he said 
quietly, “ you’re a nice girl and a loyal one. I’m going 
to re-roll you in the school and nothing shall be said 
or done to Charlotte. Miss Kirkman says that you 
both passed the examinations, so everything is all 
right.” 


MOYA AND CHARLOTTE 


263 


“ W-what? ” Moya asked. 

“ Yes. I give you my word.” 

“ You — you won’t do anything to Charlotte? Hon- 
est? ” 

“ Honest,” he repeated gravely. 

For the first time since the examination, Moya burst 
into tears; Ruthie rushed and put her arm about her 
friend, and they clung to each other. 

“ Now will you tell us what really happened? ” Mr. 
Johnson asked. 

Moya looked up and wiped her eyes with her hand- 
kerchief. “ Ruthie was right,” she said. “ I didn’t 
cheat — I knew the problem. But I wanted to help 
Charlotte — she didn’t want me to help her, really. 
But she’s been so sick — you see, I wasn’t giving her 
the answer — I was just showing her the standard ex- 
ample. And it meant so much to her. I made her 
promise — ” 

“ I understand. But you do realize that what you 
did was very wrong? ” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“ And you won’t do it again? ” r 

“ Oh, no! ” 

They laughed at the violence of her denial. 

“ All right, Moya.” He held out his hand, and she 


264 RUTHIE 

put hers into it quickly. “ Thank you, Ruthie, for 
what you did. I’d hate to have let an injustice like 
this go by. It’s so hard to know all the truth.” 

“ Thank you,” Ruthie said. “Oh, ever so much! ” 

“ You two had better run along now,” Mr. Johnson 
said. “ I wish you’d stay for a minute, Blake. I want 
to talk with you.” 

Ruthie and Moya came out into the corridor, their 
arms about each other. They were still arm in arm 
when they entered Miss Orcutt’s room. The class was 
studying, and they looked up in surprise as the two 
girls came in. 

“ Moya didn’t! ” Ruthie said triumphantly to the 
teacher. “ I knew she didn’t. And Mr. Johnson says 
everything’s all right.” 

Miss Orcutt held out both her hands; discipline in 
the class was forgotten. 

“ Three cheers ! ” called Peg excitedly and the sedate 
walls of the study-room shook as the girls cheered. 

Moya and Ruthie went to their seats happily, and 
Moya opened her Latin grammar almost tenderly. She 
jyas still a part of King Street School! 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SCHOOL YEAR ENDS 

T HE weeks of examinations ended; there were only 
seven days left of Ruthie’s first year at school. 
“ What a week we have ahead of us! ” she sighed 
happily, clasping her arms above her head and leaning 
back in the hammock that swung between the two trees 
in the Blake garden. “ Tomorrow we return the rest 
of our books, clear out our papers, get old Room 12 A 
ready for the next class — with our love. Wednesday’s 
the gym meet. Thursday, Professor Jordan’s tea. 
Friday’s the last day of school, and Saturday is my 
party.” 

“ And Sunday we go to the farm and you go to 
Foxport and Moya goes to her grandmother’s,” Peg 
added. 

“ That’s the worst of it,” said Moya. “ Still, we’rel 
all going to Peg’s in July and to your house in August, 
Ruthie.” 

“ What a gorgeous year it’s been! ” Ruthie continued 
dreamily. “ I always knew I’d love school, but — ” 

“ I actually liked school myself, this year,” said 

265 


266 RUTHIE 

Moya. “Think of the things we’ve done, Ruthie! ” 

“I know.” 

“ And next year we’ll be freshmen,” said Peg. 

“And four years from now we’ll be ready for col- 
lege,” Ruthie said. 

“ Maybe,” said Moya, laughing. “ That’s counting 
your chickens before they’re hatched, Ruthie.” 

“ What is? ” Mrs. Blake asked, coming out on the 
piazza. “ Are you talking about getting up tomorrow 
mJorning? Because you have to go to bed in order to 
get up, and it’s half past nine.” 

“ Half past nine ! ” Peg repeated. “ My goodness ! ” 

“ I think Mrs. Blake is sending us home tactfully, 
Peggy,” said Moya. “ And it’s time we went. I had 
no idea it was so late. We’ve been talking over the 
year, Mrs. Blake.” 

“ No wonder you didn’t know what time it was, 
then. Well, scoot along, children — you’ve got lots of 
things to do tomorrow.” 

They said goodnight, and Mrs. Blake went upstairs 
with her daughter while she undressed. 

“ Charlotte will be back at school tomorrow,” she 
said. “ I’ve just come from the Melvins’.” 

“ Oh, I’m glad,” Ruthie said. “ She’s going to be 
promoted, isn’t she, Mother? ” 


THE SCHOOL YEAR ENDS 


267 

“ Yes. They let her take the rest of her examina- 
tions at home — I think Mr. Johnson is an awfully 
good principal, Ruthie.” 

“ He’s a darling,” Ruthie agreed. 

“ You like Mrs. Melvin, don’t you? ” 

“ A lot. She’s so pretty and gentle. I wish — • 
Why, Mother? ” 

“ You always know when I have a plan, don’t you, 
Ruthie? Your father has to go to New York for three 
weeks and he wants me to come with him. I was won- 
dering whether — ” 

“ Charlotte and her mother could come to Foxport? ” 
Ruthie supplied eagerly. 

“ Yes. It would be good for them both, and if you’d 
like it — ” 

“ Oh, I’d love it, Mother! And Peri’ll be there? ” 

Mrs. Blake nodded. “ You want me to ask her, 
then? ” 

“Yes. You’re so good, Mother.” She lifted her 
face to be kissed. “ I think I’m happier every single 
day of my life.” 

“ Not sorry that school is over? ” 

“ Oh — ” She frowned. “ In a way I’m sorry, I 
suppose. But it’s lovely to have vacation.” 

“ You’re a real school girl now, Ruthie. Don’t you 


268 RUTHIE 

remember how you hated the first vacation at Thanks- 
giving and wanted to get back to school? You don’t 
miss traveling about? ” 

“ Miss it! ” Ruthie’s voice was scornful. “ I should 
say I don’t. I’d give up all the places I’ve seen, in a 
minute, for all the friends I’ve made this year.” 

The next day, as she had prophesied, was a busy one. 
The girls hurried about excitedly from room to room; 
at lunch-hour the hall was noisier and gayer than ever 
before. 

“ Oh, Charlotte, if only we’d made friends at the 
beginning of the year! ” Ruthie said. “ To think that 
we never discovered you until almost the last month 
of school! ” 

Charlotte smiled shyly. “ But we’ve got the summer 
ahead, and next year,” she said. 

“ Next year will be fun,” Moya agreed. “ Oh, 
dear! ” 

They smiled happily at one another. 

“ We’ve got to get to bed early tonight,” said Peg* 
“ The gym meet’s tomorrow. Oh, Ruthie, aren’t you 
excited? ” 

Ruthie nodded. “ Over everything. And our class 
has got to win the meet. Amy says that usually the 
first class wins.” 


THE SCHOOL YEAR ENDS 269 

“ They won’t this year,” said Peg. 

Charlotte sighed. “ Oh, I wish I’d been well enough 
to qualify,” she said. “ Next year — ” 

They laughed again. 

“ Next year! ” repeated Moya. “ Oh, isn’t it fun? ” 

The gymnasium the following day was walled with 
chairs where the mothers and fathers sat, talking with 
the teachers. Miss Webster, the instructor, sat down at 
the piano and played a march; Mrs. Blake looked up, 
smiling, as the second-year girls appeared, in their 
brown bloomers and yellow neckties. Ruthie, from her 
place in the line, turned to smile. From the opposite 
end of the hall came the first-year girls, a long line of 
blue bloomers and scarlet neckties. 

“The ropes! ” Miss Webster said. 

Five girls from each class stepped forward, took their 
places at the long ropes which Moya and a small first- 
year girl had pulled out. 

“ Ready! ” 

They began to climb, their lips set grimly. Mrs. 
Blake watched Ruthie breathlessly as she pulled her 
way toward the steel-ribbed ceiling of the hall. Sud- 
denly she cheered, and holding the rope between her 
knees, fastened the yellow ribbon about the top of the 
rope. 


270 RUTHIE 

The second-year class had won on the ropes! 

They slid down excitedly, fell again into lines. 

Alternately, the two classes went through their exer- 
cises, their cheeks flushed, their eyes shining. The final 
basket-ball game was played, and they waited silently 
while Miss Webster announced that the second-year 
had won. There followed five minutes of wild cheering 
from each class. 

Then, together, the sky-rocket cheer. The girls 
stooped over and patted their hands against their knees, 
then the hands clapping together, a long, sibilant whis- 
tle, a sharp, soprano cluck from sixty tongues — King 
Street School! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

The meet ended in a rising tumult of voices, in con- 
gratulations and laughter. 

Professor Jordan’s tea was merely another day of 
confused excitement. The girls from The Sugar Plum 
Tree were there; the juniors who would be seniors, the 
following year, and the new editors of the magazine. 
The Beanstalk editors arrived together, with the first- 
year girls who would take their places; the Greek club 
girls — “ Too bad Rosalind Park couldn’t come,” Pro- 
fessor Jordan greeted them — girls from all the classes 
of King Street School. 

On Friday, the closing exercises were held; promo- 


THE SCHOOL YEAR ENDS 271 

tion cards were passed out in a period of excited 
silence; the school assembled in the lecture hall to 
watch the seniors receive their diplomas, seniors look- 
ing very serious and conscious of their importance, in 
their graduation dresses, as they stepped forward, one 
after another, to shake Mr. Johnson’s hand. Martha 
Weston was crying, and Ann Bradley had tears in her 
eyes. 

The exercises came to an end; the signal was given 
to leave the hall. In Room 12 A the girls said good- 
bye to Miss Orcutt and to each other. “ Next year! ” 
echoed from one end of the room to the other. Arm 
in arm, Ruthie and Peg, Moya and Charlotte, walked 
through the wide door of the school, stopped at the 
foot of the brick wall to look back at the building. 
They walked home quietly; vacation had begun — 
school was over! 

Ruthie’s party was yet another repetition of the 
goodbyes and “ next years When the last guest had 
gone, and the four chums were left alone in the dis- 
ordered living-room, surrounded by empty lemonade 
glasses, plates with crumbs of cake and puddles of 
melted ice cream, they sat down together on the couch. 

“ I wonder if we’ll ever be so happy again! ” Moya 
said pensively. 


272 


RUTHIE 


“ I know I won’t,” said Ruthie quickly. “ It was 
my very first year of school. And you’re my very first 
friends.” 

“ Think of the things we’ve done ! ” Peg leaned 
back thoughtfully. 

“ And of the things we’re going to do! ” said Char- 
lotte. There was a ring in her voice, and the other 
three looked up in surprise. 

“ The things we’re going to do! ” Ruthie repeated. 

“ Next year,” said Moya. 

Ruthie jumped to her feet and hurried across to one 
of the tables, filled four of the glasses with lemonade. 
They stood in a circle, facing each other, smiling. 

“ Next year! ” Ruthie said, lifting her glass so that 
the sunset light turned it to gold. 

They drank solemnly. 

“ Next year ! ” 


THE END 






SEP l 6 192,! 



